Harry Potter & The Secrets of Magica -- CLOSED AND UNFINISHED
by Ancient Of Sirus
Summary: Harry, after having been abused throughout his childhood, begins to learn about the magical world that abandoned him to the Dursley's - and to abuse. Can he forgive the world that had left him behind? Will Harry let himself be ruled by his anger and ambition, or are there other things in his new life that are more important?
1. Chapter 1

Harry Potter fell to the ground, and his vision seemed to fill with sparks and floating orbs of light. For an instance, he forgot where he was, but was soon brought back to reality. "Get up, Potter", spat Dudley, his cousin. "We're not done with you". Harry had done his best to hold back tears, but with the sharp pain of the punch was no longer capable of holding back. In spite of that, he was pretty sure the wetness on his lip was his blood, not his tears. Behind Dudley stood Piers Polkiss, the rat-faced boy who followed Dudley wherever he went, usually holding people's arms behind their back as Dudley beat them up.

Polkiss, safe behind Dudley, felt quite safe mock him. "Why're you crying, Potter? Do you miss your mommy?" At this, Dudley and Polkiss both laughed, but Harry's lack of reaction apparently made them decide it was over for now. "So long, Potter!", yelled Dudley, kicking Harry in the chest - rather hard, even for him - before running of with Polkiss, both of them laughing.

Harry sat on the ground for a while, catching his breath, before he cleaned the blood off his lip. Wincing, he realized it had been split - again - but with his now-substantial knowledge of first aid, also figured it wouldn't need stitches. Harry always tried to appreciate the small blessings like that. Getting back on his feet and shaking the dust off of his clothes, Harry felt only one thing other than the pain. Hate. Pure, undiluted hate for the boys who treated him this way. What had he ever done to them except being born? Harry hadn't chosen this life. He hadn't chosen to be raised by the Dursley's, to loose his parents and be given over to them...

Harry spaced out as a glimpse of green light and searing pain ran through his mind. He had been told his parents had died in a car accident, but somehow it didn't feel like a car accident. Somehow. Pushing the memory of pain and blinding light from his mind, he assessed the damage to his skinny frame. Nothing too bad other than the split lip. A scraped knee and dusty clothes. The trouble now would be that his aunt Petunia would blame him for getting his clothes dirty. Any attempt to point out that Dudley has assaulted him would be met with either accusations of lying, or assurances that he had brought it on himself.

Cunt.

Harry couldn't deal with Petunia right now, so he went to the one place he knew he could be alone, and even clean his scrapes and cuts, under an old bridge nearby. Harry took great care in being sure he was not followed, since his spot under the bridge was one of the few places he still considered to be "his", a place Dudley and his gang had never found. Dudley had sometimes wondered where he went, of course, and it wasn't for lack of trying that him and his gang hadn't found it. Harry, when he needed to be, had simply learned to be sneaky.

Harry settled into his usual spot under the bridge, which he had once, briefly, shared with a wandering vagabond. Rain-water collected in the dented roof of an old car nearby, clean enough for Harry to rinse his wounds. He even drank from it occasionally, not wanting to go home or all the way to the library. Home. Using that word about the Dursley residence felt like mocking it, violating everything it stood for. Yet for Harry, the Dursley residence was home, whether he liked it or not.

Harry finished cleaning up, and hid in his hiding-hole, reading a book he had stashed there until it became too dark to read in natural lighting. The book was a collection of classic fairy tales, many of which he felt a very intimate connection with, as they were ripe with stories of lonely children and abusive step-parents. Only Harry knew that no knight would come to rescue him, and that nothing as exciting as a monster or a witch would ever cross his path.

Or so he thought, anyway.

When Harry opened the door to the Dursley residence, he noticed that they had eaten already, and, as usual, left all the dishes for him to do. Aunt Petunia noticed him almost at once, waddling towards him and looking him over with disgust. "There you are, boy. Now what trouble have you gotten into this time?", she asked, as she started painfully prodding his wounds. She looked to his dirty, worn clothing and seemed even more disgusted, like he was a rat that had just crawled out of the toilet. "You're absolutely filthy. Go change your clothes, and then start the laundry. When it's started you can do the dishes." Harry simply muttered his understanding below his breath, and got to work. There was no use in trying to argue or to mention that he was hungry. Then Uncle Vernon would get out his belt and Harry would "learn another lesson", as Vernom always put it. Harry shuddered at the thought, but only a little, having long-since acclimated himself to abuse and resigned himself to living in a world that existed only within himself - a world where he was free.

As harry did the laundry and then the dishes, he was in his mind stumbling through enchanted forests, fighting monsters and witches alike. Harry, the champion, suddenly jerked out of existence as Aunt Petunia snarled something at him. "... if you must, but make it quick". Harry had missed most of it, but she had placed a plate of scraps - some of it half-eaten and disgusting - on the table, and he assumed she wanted him to eat. Petunia continued. "Once you're done clean this dish and then go to your cupboard. We're expecting guests, so be quiet."

Harry ate his food, being quick both to avoid being beaten but also because there was very little to enjoy about Dudley and Vernon's half-eaten scraps and the chewy fat from the steaks they had enjoyed earlier. Inwardly, he was picturing how he would, one day, make Dudley, Petunia and Vernon suffer for what they had done to him, one day when he was strong. But he soon forgot all such thoughts as he cleaned the plate and scurried off to his cupboard, not wanting them to "remind" him again to quickly get out of the way when they wanted company.

In the cupboard under the stairs, Harry Potter laid reading in the dim light from his one lamp on the day before his 11th Birthday.


	2. Chapter 2

In the early hours of the day after his 11th birthday, Harry Potter woke up, as he always did, before the Dursley family. It was his job, as it had been for as long as he remembered, to sort through the mail and to prepare the house for the Dursley family. First, he went and unclogged the toilet, as Dudley made a point of always using it last and clogging it, knowing that Harry would have to clean it. Then he sorted the mail, and for the first time in years was caught genuinely by surprise.

There was a letter for him. He had never received a letter. Not once, in his entire life. And yet, this letter was quite clearly addressed to him.

Mr. Harry James Potter  
The cupboard under the stairs  
4 Privet drive  
Little Whinging  
Surry

Harry's heart skipped a beat. This couldn't really be for him, could it? Then it occurred to him. The Dursley's. It wouldn't matter at all if this was really his letter if they found out about it. His uncle would read it, and then destroy it, always holding the contents of the letter above his head, but always keeping it unattainable. It wouldn't even matter what it was, whether it was just an advertisement, if it was for Harry, he would destroy it.

So Harry hid the letter in his cupboard before he started the day's work. He wasn't going to let them take this away from him, as they had already taken away his childhood and innocence. Soon, his chores were finished, and he retreated to his cupboard. He read the letter over and over again, having read it almost 30 times when he finally put it down. He still did not fully understand, nor did he fully believe, although his heart told him it was true, told him that he had always known.

"Dear Mr. Potter,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list  
of all necessary books and equipment.

Terms begin on 1 September. We await your owl by no later than 31 July.

Yours Sincerely,  
Minerva McGonagall

Deputy Headmistress"

The letter continued on a second page, which was just as surprising as the first.

"UNIFORM

First-year students will require:

1\. Three sets of plain work robes (black)  
2\. One plain pointed hat (black) for day wear  
3\. One pair of protective gloves (dragon hide or similar)  
4\. One winter cloak (black, with silver fastenings)

Please note that all pupil's clothes should carry name tags or identifying enchantments.

COURSE BOOKS

All students should have a copy of each of the following:

The standard book of spells (Grade 1), by Miranda Goshawk  
A history of magic, by Bathilda Bagshot  
Magical Theory, by Adalbert Waffling  
A beginner's guide to transfiguration, by Emeric Switch  
One thousand magical herbs and fungi, by Phyllida Spore  
Magical drafts and potions, by Arsenius Jigger  
Fantastic beasts and where to find them, by Newt Scamander  
The dark forces: A guide to self-protection, by Quentin Trimble

OTHER EQUIPMENT:

1 wand  
1 cauldron (pewter, standard size 2)  
1 set glass or crystal phials  
1 telescope  
1 set brass scales

Students may also bring, if they desire, an owl OR a cat OR a toad.

PARENTS ARE REMINDED THAT FIRST YEARS  
ARE NOT ALLOWED THEIR BROOMSTICK

Yours sincerely,  
Lucinda Thomsonicle-Pocus  
Chief attendant of Witchcraft Provisions"

It couldn't possibly be true, could it? And yet, somehow, he know that it was. Somewhere in his heart, he knew it was true. He had always known it was true. And yet, it left so many questions. First of all, was he insane? And if he wasn't, how was he ever going to get to this school, this Hogwarts? The Dursley's wouldn't let him, that much was a given. So what were his options? In the darkness of the cupboard under the stairs of 4 Privet Drive, Harry Potter laid a plan.


	3. Chapter 3

It was early in the morning, 3:42AM to be exact. Harry Potter, having laid awake in his cupboard under the stairs, was finally ready. He was going to run away. He had received a letter which seemed, to him, to be his only hope of a better future. Or a future at all, really. He didn't know where he was going to go, but he knew that he was going to leave this place, leave the Dursley's. Forever. If that meant that he died somewhere in London, alone, it was still better than continuing to live with them for even another day. He had one thing to go by, though. A name.

Hogwarts.

It sounded, well, frankly it sounded ridiculous. But it also sounded familiar. Like he had heard it somewhere, sometime in his long-forgotten past. But whether it was real, or he had finally gone insane, it was better than here. Anything was better than here. He had packed more or less everything he owned, which wasn't saying much. He had stolen Dudley's backpack, since although the bottom was disgustingly stained from Dudley's forgotten lunches and snacks, it could hold more than the old, beat-up purse they had given him to serve as a school-bag. Harry shuddered. Having to carry that purse to school had not been fun.

But there was no time to dwell on the past. Harry knew his aunt and uncle would not be awake and were not likely to hear him, but he didn't want to take any chances. He had been caught going through the fridge at night before, and uncle Vernon had made his displeasure quite tangibly felt. Harry shuddered again. No more. He had been given a chance, and he would make good on it, no matter what it cost him. It wasn't like he had anything to loose.

Stained, over-sized clothes. A small pocket-knife Dudley had once thrown in the trash after trying to bend the blade he had cut himself with. A length of twine. A plastic bag of leftovers from the fridge. A towel, remembering a book he once read. Two books, a collection of classical fairy tales Dudley hadn't wanted (and didn't know Harry enjoyed, which is why the book hadn't been destroyed), and a book he had (secretly) checked out from the library, A History Of The Modern world.

That was everything Harry Potter had on him when he set out, on what he hoped was his final departure from the Dursley residence.

As dawn approached, Harry needed to find a place to sleep. He was at least a few hours on foot away from the Dursley residence now, and felt confident that they could not find him. When they noticed he was missing, he know it would go one of two ways. Either they would simply ignore it and begin cleaning out his cupboard or they would call the police and have them drag him back. Since he had taken Dudley's backpack, he found the latter option quite likely. The Dursley's were easy to spite and Vernon in particular would be fuming with rage once he found out. Harry was quite sure the one or two toys he had left behind - broken and unwanted hand-me-downs from Dudley - would be in the garbage by now. Maybe his bed would even be taken away, and if they caught him, he would have to sleep on the floor. It wouldn't be the first time they'd done that.

But that wouldn't happen. Harry was determined not to be caught. He would sleep in whichever hiding-hole he could find, and once night fell again, he would continue. And he would keep walking until he found Hogwarts, or until he was dead. Either was better than living with the Dursley's. Laying behind a dumpster in an alley, where he was fairly sure nobody would be able to see him, Harry Potter once again thought of Hogwarts.

Hogwarts. It seemed like an impossible thing. A school of Witchcraft and Wizardry? That wanted him, of all people, for a pupil? He had read about things like that, of course, and dreamt of them, but nothing like that had ever been part of his life. All he had ever known was the Dursley residence and the life, if you could call it that, that had been allotted to him there. And now, Hogwarts. It seemed like an impossible dream, and frankly, Harry knew it was very unlikely to be true. It was a prank, of course, something Dudley and Vernon had invented up to get his hopes up before dashing them against a rock, like so many Babylonian babies. But then again, were they really smart enough for a prank like that? Thinking of Hogwarts, Harry Potter fell asleep on the cold and dirty ground.

"Harry? Harry Potter?". Harry blinked. He was cold. Where was he? He opened his eyes, at first seeing only the dumpster he had fallen asleep behind last night. Then he saw something else, but he wasn't sure he could make sense of it. Bend over him stood a woman wearing a tall, pointed hat and a cape. He closed his eyes, hoping the madness would leave him once he opened them again. He opened his eyes. The woman was still there.

"Who are you?" Harry asked. This entire situation filled him with a sense of surrealism. Not only was he sure nobody should have been able to find him, the woman was wearing a pointy hat. She looked like a cartoon witch, if anything, although her annoyed look and uptight expression ruined the impression a little. Her Scottish accent, as well, seemed in contrast to her appearance.

With a small harrumph of annoyance, the witch straightened herself up. "I am Minerva McGonagall, deputy headmistress of Hogwarts. And you have given us quite a scare, Mr Potter, leaving your home like that." Harry immediately sat up on hearing those words. "Hogwarts? So it's... it's really real? Really really real?". McGonagall seemed to have little patience with his questions, but sighed and gave him a sharp look. "Of course it's real, Mr Potter. I don't know what those... those muggles have taught you, but you are a wizard, Mr Potter, and Hogwarts is where wizards of good families are educated. Now get up and clean yourself, we have wasted enough time here." Harry noted her use of an unfamiliar phrase, which she spat with a particular venom. "Muggles?", he asked.

"Muggles, Mr Potter, are not born to a magical family, and who have in them not even a shred of magic. Your aunt and uncle are muggles."

Harry mulled that over for a bit, then he looked at her skeptically. "Are you really a witch? Did Vernon put you up to this? Because I'm not going back to that house. You can't make me!". McGonagall smiled very slightly, gave him an impatient look look and turned into a cat.

Harry gasped, but for his part, had little more to say on the matter. Turning into a cat was magic, that much was obvious. "So...", Harry asked as she turn back into a human being. "I really do get to go to Hogwarts?"

McGonagall nodded. "Of course you do, Mr Potter. You got our letter, I know that much. Your parents paid for everything before you were even born".

"They were wizards too? Well wizard and witch, I mean."

"Of course they were, Mr Potter. Very capable ones, too. My goodness, how do you think they died?"

"... in a car crash?"

McGonagall was silent for a moment and now looked almost sad. "No, Mr Potter. Not in a car crash. Your parents, Mr Potter, were murdered by the Dark Lord, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. It was no accident, Mr Potter. The Dark Lord murdered your parents, and then... then he tried to kill you. But his spell backfired, although we know not why, and he was destroyed. That, Mr Potter, is how you got that scar on your forehead." Harry was silent. This was all too much to process. It seemed ludicrous, impossibly ridiculous, but... she had turned into a cat. People didn't just turn into cats.

"And now, Mr Potter, you must go back to your home. And you must stay there, until September, when the term starts"

Harry's stomach dropped. "September? I can't do that. I ran away, you don't know what they'll do to me. Please McGonagall, you can't send me back there."

"That's professor McGonagall to you, Potter, and yes, I can, and I will. A boy of 11 can't just... just roam the streets and sleep behind dumpsters like some kind of hooligan. My god Potter, how were you raised?"

Harry was silent for a little while. "I'm not sure I was, M-Uh, professor McGonagall. They just sort of... keep me around, you know?"

McGonagall looked him with an expression of both increasing worry and annoyance. "Why are you sleeping on the streets, Potter? You should be home, where you're safe."

Harry struggled with himself. On the one hand, he didn't want to upset Professor McGonagall, and he certainly didn't want to risk anything happening to his chances to go to Hogwarts - which it now seemed as real after all. But on the other hand...

"I really don't want to go back there, professor McGonagall. You don't know what they're like. They, well... they threat me like I'm not even a person. And... I kind of stole this backpack. You have no idea what they'll do to me. I'm not even sure what they'll do."

Professor McGonagall now creased her brow and looked worried, although her expression was still mixed with some annoyance. "Mr Potter... please... don't tell me these muggles abused you. If you're going to say something like that, don't jest, and don't overstate it. It is a dreadful bother to deal with such things. Now tell me... what have they done to you? I am a teacher, Mr Potter. If you do tell me something like that, I shall be quite compelled to act. By law and by magic."

Harry was silent.

"Tell me, Mr Potter... Harry." McGonagall looked him straight in the eyes. "Do they ever touch you? Inappropriately?"

Harry blushed. "Well, no, they've never done that. But they, well, they beat me sometimes. And, and, they lock me in my cupboard when they have company, and sometimes they don't give me food, and... " but Harry could get no further, he cried, telling McGonagall all the things that had happened to him living with the Dursley's, which he had never seen a point in telling another soul.

As he cried, he felt McGonagall draw him into an embrace. She was stiff and although the hug was awkward, it might still have been the nicest thing anyone had ever done for him.


	4. Chapter 4

Harry Potter was sitting in one of the back rooms of the Leaky Cauldron drinking a cup of hot chocolate and feeling better than he had in years.

It was all real. All really real. It seemed so unlikely, but he had seen it for himself. The normal people, the muggles, had simply walked past the leaky cauldron, seeming entirely unable to register that it even existed. After he and Professor McGonagall had arrived at the inn, she had ordered him to stay put while she talked with some people. Harry had worried about what she was would be saying, and to whom, but only at first. Not only was the hot chocolate the best such he had ever had in his life, it also seemed remarkably soothing. But Harry was not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, and for now, just enjoyed being warm and safe. Especially safe.

It seemed that maybe, just maybe, Harry wouldn't have to go back to 4 Privet Drive.

Almost an hour passed with nobody tending to Harry, but he didn't let himself be bothered. There was a surprising amount of hot chocolate in the small cup he had been given, seemingly endless, and it stayed warm no matter how long he waited. Harry was content to simply enjoy the taste and soothing effect of the hot chocolate. Any other time, he would have worried about what exactly was in the chocolate to make him feel so calm, but Harry's day had already been overwhelming to say the least.

Finally, the door opened, and Professor McGonagall walked into the room accompanied by a rather peculiar group. Following directly after her was an old man who appeared much as a stereotypical "wizard" as was possible, with a tall, pointed hat of his own, from which a rather large spider was dangling from a web. The old man was dressed in purple robes decorated with stars and unknown mystical patterns, some which Harry recognized as constellations or occult symbols and other he could not place at all.

Alongside the old man was a middle-aged woman and a younger man. The middle-aged woman was giving the old man a look of fury unlike any Harry remembered seeing from a non-Dursley and Harry couldn't help but wonder what the grandfatherly man had done to earn that kind of stare. Professor McGonagall seemed about to say something before the strange old man stepped forward and leaned down to Harry's level.

"Harry Potter. My my, how you've grown. I'm pleased to meet you. We have all been expecting you. Ah, but where are my manners." He presented a hand which Harry timidly shook, gasping in alarm and jerking back his hand as a myriad of smaller spiders seemed to swarm from the man's sleeve before transforming into soap-bubbles and floating away in the air, ending their brief existence with a almost inaudible 'pop'.

"I am Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, or dubbly-dory for short." A short, surprised laugh was pulled from Harry at that. "I am the headmaster of Hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry, and these two" - the old man gestured to the two strangers - "are aurors, magical police if you will, from the department for the protection of children. They are here to ask you a few questions, and I hope that you will tell them everything you have told professor McGonagall. Harry... It is important that you tell them the truth, and only the truth. Do you understand, Harry?"

Harry did not have time to reply before the female auror cut in. "That is enough, Dumbledore! Mr Potter, tell us everything you told McGonagall, please, and tell us about your life with the Dursley's." Harry talked for a while as the concerned aurors listened. Finally, it was over, and the aurors thanked Harry for being as honest with them as he had managed. Some of the warmness from the hot chocolate had stayed with him throughout, but going through all the traumatic events of his life had still left Harry rather shaken. Dumbledore looked to Harry, then to the aurors. "I know you will want to talk to me. Perhaps we should go into the next room, where we might talk in private?"

Once the aurors gave stiff nods of agreement, Dumbledore turned to Harry. "Harry, wait here for just a little bit longer please, we need to, ah, sort out a few things. We will get this entire unfortunate matter taken care off to, ah, our mutual satisfaction. Until then, Mr Potter". Dumbledore surprised Harry again by winking at him, and then left with the two aurors and Professor McGonagall, who had not spoken a word during the entire exchange. Once they were all out of the room, an argument seemed to break out in the next room, of which Harry overheard only a few fragments. "You can't do that" - "what about Lily? What would she say?" - "For that? It's impossible!". The discussion seemed to turn to hushed whispers soon after, but Harry could tell that the tone was still terribly angry.

Soon after, they all returned to the room. The two aurors both seemed like they were barely containing fury, while Dumbledore seemed as unaffected and nonchalant as he ever had. McGonagall seemed only vaguely offended. Dumbledore gave the two aurors a look of deference, seeming the very image of patience.

The woman gave a small huff, and stepped forward to address Harry. "Mr Potter, we have discussed your case, and it has been decided by Dumbledore, who is legally your guardian, that you will remain at Hogwarts for all breaks and vacations, but that you must return to your home on 4 Privet drive when the school closes over the summer. However", she interjected, shooting Dumbledore an angry look, "if things should change for you there or become worse, then you will contact me, and we will discuss pressing charges against these muggles. My name is Miranda Huffington, and if you need anything, Mr Potter, anything at all, you will contact me, no matter what anyone else tells you to. Do you understand, Mr Potter?"

Harry was silent for while. "I'm not sure I do. You're saying that... I get to go to Hogwarts, and I don't have to go back to the Dursley's until the year is over?".

"Yes, Mr Potter, that's right."

"But the school year doesn't start until September. Do I have to go back until then?"

The woman smiled. "No. No, you do not. We are not sure exactly where you will be staying, but it is quite possibly that you will be allowed to simply stay here, at the Leaky Cauldron, until September comes. It is quite close to diagon alley, so you would have time to do your school shopping as well."

Harry looked down, ashamed. "But I don't have any money..."

At that the auror, whose name was Miranda, lit up like Harry hadn't seen yet. "Oh but that's where you're wrong, Mr Potter. You have quite a lot of money, as it turns out. Your father was from a noble house and your parents have left you quite enough for your entire schooling, and then some. It will not be a problem." At this, Harry had nothing to say. He had never had even an allowance, or any money really except what he found on the streets. The one time a neighbour had given him a few pounds for helping her carry her groceries, Dudley has stolen that.

Miranda continued. "Further... We will be sure that when you return to, well, when you go back to your aunt and uncles place, there won't be any more nasty incidents. Someone", and at this she shot a rather nasty glance at Dumbledore, "will go by there and inform them where you are, and make quite sure that they treat you with basic courtesy, and that there there will not be any more unpleasantries. If there are, Mr Potter, you will contact me, immediately, and the ministry will hold accountable those who are responsible, to the full extent of the law. Do you understand me, Mr Potter? Harry?"

Harry nodded. "Yes, I think I do. And... thank you."

Miranda shook her head. "No, Mr Potter. Don't thank me. Thank you! We all lost family and friends in the war, and if not for you, it is not certain at all that any of us in this room would be here today at all. Magical Britain, and indeed the world, owes you a fantastic debt". She wiped a tear from the corner of her eye. With that, leaving Harry utterly confused, she turned to Dumbledore and harrumphed, before storming out the door with her silent male coworker.

One they were gone, Harry turned to Dumbledore, who was watching him with a sad expression. "Headmaster Dumbledore, sir... What did she mean, about the war and all that?"

"Ah, Harry, that is a long story", replied the headmaster. "I believe it would be wise, as it usually is, to start at the beginning".

Harry listened, speechless, as he heard the story every child born to magical parents other than himself had been told since they were born. The story of Harry Potter.


	5. Chapter 5

It had been almost a week since Harry came to the Leaky Cauldron, and this was the first time in his life that Harry would could truly describe as happy. Harry had been mostly left to himself as Professor McGonagall was busy with affairs of her own, but Harry had no complaints. He had been left alone with his books, had been given 3 warm meals a day, and had an entire room to himself, which was never too cold or too warm or stomped on by Dudley. To put it simply, it was the first time Harry had ever experienced the standard of living that most wizards simply took for granted.

Harry was excited for something entirely different, though. Today, Professor McGonagall had promised to send someone who would take him to Diagon Alley, where he would get the school books and supplies he would need. Harry looked up from his book as someone knocked on his door. They were big, heavy knocks, like a wild animal was trying to break down his door and Harry instinctively flinched in fear, searching the room for somewhere to hide. He half expected Vernon to burst through the door and teach him another "lesson", before he realized where he was. Very carefully, he stood up and closed his book.

From outside the door came a booming voice: "Harry? Harry, are yeh in there?" Hesitant for a second at the sheer loudness of the voice, Harry considered just hiding. "Who's there?" he asked, trying not to let his fear show in his voice. Someone was supposed to be here to pick him up to go to diagon alley. The voice, however, didn't answer his question. "Open up Harry, fer goddsake, if yer in there."

Harry decided that whoever the voice belonged to could easily have broken down his door, and opened it up. Even having prepared himself, Harry couldn't help but gasp at the sheer size of the man who stood outside. Taller than anyone Harry had ever seen, and with a beard like a cave-man, he had come face-to-face with a giant. The man, seeing Harry's surprised expression, barked with laughter that sounded like a small landslide.

"No need ter worry, Harry! I'm Rubeus Hagrid, Keeper of keys and grounds at Hogwarts. It's a great pleasure to meet yeh Harry, great pleasure... I knew yer parents yeh know, great, great people they were...". Harry was startled to see that the enormous man had tears in the corners of his eyes, which he absentmindedly wiped off with his beard. "Great people, truly... It was a great loss fer all of Britain."

Harry just looked down into the ground. "What were they like? My parents, I mean?"

Hagrid beamed, his smile almost wide enough to let his teeth be seen through the bushy beard. "They were good, honest people Harry, and brave, too. Other than Dumbledore I don' know any truer Gryffindors than them. I was in Gryffindor meself, yeh know!". At this, Hagrid seemed the very image of pride, like being Gryffindor was the highest achievement in life. Timidly, Harry asked. "What's Gryffindor?"

Hagrid stared at him dumb-founded for almost a full minute. "Wha'... Harry, Gryffindors the house yer parents were in! It's the house of Dumbledore, Harry, the house of bravery!" Harry tried to not let his shame be too obvious. "Hagrid... what do you mean house exactly?" Hagrid again stared at him. "Harry, what've these Muggles been tellin' yeh? There are 4 houses a' Hogwarts, one for each kind of child."

Harry just smiled and nodded as he processed the new information. "They didn't tell me anything. I'm not even sure if they knew... and I don't think they'd have told me even if they did." Hagrid was stunned for almost another full minute. Finally, he muttered "Damn muggles... Yeh'll learn with time, Harry. Yeh're going to be a great Wizard, Harry, I'm sure of it! James n' Lily, well Harry, after Dumbledore they're the greatest witch and wizard I ever met!"

Harry smiled, finding himself unable to resist the unfamiliar flattery. "Thanks Hagrid... We're supposed to go to Diagon Alley today, aren't we? To get the things I need for school?" Hagrid smiled. "Yeh sure are, Harry! I remember my first day of school...".

Before Hagrid could continue his story too far, Harry interrupted. "But, Hagrid... I don't have any money... I don't know how I'm supposed to get all these things". Harry pointed to the list with a tired look on his face, only to be interrupted by the thundering laughter of the enormous man. "Harry, you shouldn' worry about THA', not in the least! Your parents left yeh quite a fortune. The house Potter is a noble house, yeh know. You'll have money to see you through school no worries, even if yeh continue on to an advanced school once yeh're done with Hogwarts."

McGonagall had said as much, earlier. He just hadn't really believed it. "I've never had any money before" he finally whispered. Hagrid just gave him a look that would have seemed stern on anyone but him. "Well don' yeh worry about that stuff anymore, Harry. Yer going to Hogwarts, and yeh'll be learning from Dumbledore, greatest headmaster Hogwarts ever had! Great man he is, Dumbledore."

As they talked, Harry and Hagrid walked through the Leaky Cauldron, towards Diagon Alley, where Harry had been told he would be able to get all the supplies he would need. Eventually, Harry and Hagrid stood face-to-face with a brick wall. Before Harry could ask what exactly the point of that was, Hagrid fished a small, ugly umbrella out of his coat, which again stunned Harry into silence.

Hagrid gave him a conspiratorial look. "Harry... I'm not really supposed to 'ave this, so if yeh don't tell anyone I'll be quite thankful."

Before Harry could ask exactly what Hagrid wasn't supposed to have, he tapped a pattern on the bricks with his ugly umbrella, causing the bricks to start folding and moving under their own power, revealing a pathway into the middle of a busy and crowded shopping street. Harry stood there for a while, dumbstruck, before Hagrid started walking. "Yeh coming', Harry?"

Harry followed, silently, overwhelmed by the hectic activity on Diagon Alley.


	6. Chapter 6

Harry was standing in Madam Malkin's, being measured for his robes, as the enormous Hagrid waited in a small chair that now looked perilously close to collapsing. Hagrid had asked Harry where he would most like to spend his time and Harry had without hesitation chosen the bookstore. Hagrid had nodded, sizing him up, and said that they would go there as one of the last stops. He said that Lily used to love browsing book stores, too. The agreement became that Harry would be free to browse at his leisure, and Hagrid would be free to go back to the Cauldron and have a drink. After they had visited Madam Malkins, the wand-maker Ollivanders was the only remaining stop other than the book-store.

Harry, seeing absolutely nothing unusual about an adult leaving him alone to go drinking, could only think of being allowed to browse a bookstore and actually take his time doing so. Harry had rarely been allowed in stores at all, least of all bookstores, except on the few occasions he had been dragged along as Dudley was bought books he'd rip up and never read by his parents or relatives. On those few, rare occasions, he had managed to glance at titles which immediately gained a life of their own in his mind. Visiting the wizarding bank had been fun, and seeing the huge pile of gold that supposedly belonged to him (and of which he'd been allowed to take a little) had reinforced in Harry's mind that maybe, just MAYBE, all this was really real, but... a wizard book store? That seemed almost like it was too good to be true.

As Harry was lost in his day-dream, the witch taking his measurements cleared her throat and repeated herself. "I SAID, you're quite done, young man. Come back in an hour and your uniform will be ready."

Harry flinched slightly as an adult raised their voice to him and nodded quickly. "Thank you mam, sorry, I'm just... a little distracted, is all".

The witch shot him a beaming smile. "Now now, Mister Potter, don't worry about it in the least. We're just all glad you're back with your own kind". At that, Hagrid sat up. "Now wait just a' minute there, how do yeh know who Harry is? Ah, that is, who, ah, Mister Potter is?".

The witch chuckled. "Oh he looks just like his father, except he has his mother's eyes... It couldn't be anyone else, really, but don't worry... Your secret is QUITE safe with me". As if to underline her speech, she darted her wand at the floating scissors and piles of cloth that littered the back of her store, and they instantly jumped into action, stitching what was presumably to be Harry's school uniform.

Hagrid just nodded. "Ay, he does... Just don' tell anyon' that he was here. Nobody's supposed t' know we're 'ere, yeh know?", he said, scratching his beard.

The witch gave him an insulted looked and added sternly. "I take the confidentiality of my clients QUITE seriously, I assure you. I would have you know many distinguished noble houses have shopped here for generations. I would never risk sullying my my reputation by blabbering about my customers. Now off with the two of you, I have other customers!"

As Hagrid and Harry left, a blonde boy followed by a man entered the store, and the man shot Hagrid a disgusted look before continuing inside. Harry, long-since accustomed to people talking badly about him, didn't even register as the boy said something nasty directed at Hagrid.

Hagrid looked at him and grinned. "So, Harry, would yeh like to browse th' store while I go an' get meself a drink?"

Harry beamed and nodded. "I'd love that, actually... When should I be ready?"

Hagrid waved a gigantic hand as if to say "beats me", almost knocking over an entire flock of young girls walking in a group. He quickly apologized and turned back to harry. "Harry, don't yeh worry about it, take all the time yeh'd like! This is Diagon Alley, plenty o' adult wizards around, yeh'll be quite fine here. If yeh finish before me just come across the street and get me." He pulled on his beard, thinking. "Yeh do know how to find the cauldron, don't yeh Harry?"

Harry rolled his eyes in mock outrage, giggling a little. "No, Hagrid, I've stayed there for a week, but I wouldn't be able to walk right down that road", Harry indicating towards it, "to get back there. No way."

Even with all those clues, it took Hagrid a full four seconds to nod in satisfaction. "Well... just be sure, Diagon Alley is bigger than yeh think, Harry... Any someon' gives yeh trouble, Harry, yeh just come running to me, okay?"

Harry nodded, very eager to be let into the store.

"Alright, well... Yeh be careful, Harry". And with that, Hagrid walked away with towering footsteps, leaving Harry to browse a store at his leisure for the first time in his life.

Harry was looking over titles in the section that had last drawn him in, marked as "Magical History", and was looking at the table of contents of a booked called "Dark arts and the Cultural Revolution". It supposedly detailed an alliance between Mao Tse-Tung and cult of Manchurian witches, and he was reading the introduction as the little bell above the door rang and another customer walked in. Putting the book into his magical, floating basket, Harry continued to browse, refusing to let distraction ruin his first opportunity to explore a magical book-store on his own. Well, any type of story at all to be frank. The Dursleys never even sent him for groceries, not trusting him with money.

Harry had moved to another title as a boy walked into the isle he was in. Harry shot him a glance and recognized the blonde boy from earlier.

Uninterested, Harry returned to browsing before the boy called out to him. "Hey, you!". Harry glanced towards him. "Yes, you. Do you know which one of these books (gesturing towards the shelves) is 'A History Of Magic', by Bagshot?"

Harry nodded, continuing to look at new, interesting titles. "Yes, it's in that corner, under the big red ones, can't miss them...". Since it was a school book, Harry had already picked up a copy and placed it in his school cauldron with the other books from the list, and, as Harry now had spending money for the first time in his life, a few titles that had been too interesting to put back on the shelves.

The blonde boy picked out a copy and after confirming it was the right book, sneered towards Harry. "What ARE you wearing? Those look like rags. Don't have you have a ROBE? What are you, muggle-born or something?"

Harry almost ignored the boy, almost resigning himself to letting the boy pick on him until he got tired, but his new-found sense of empowerment overrode years of instinct, and he turned towards the boy and snapped. "What's your PROBLEM? I haven't done anything to you, so climb back in your hole and die, would you? And for the record, my parents were wizards, but they were murdered by Voldemort, not that it's any of your business!"

The blonde boy was stunned by the unexpected outburst of emotion, and after a few seconds nodded respectfully, admiring the vocabulary of insults Harry had build up over years of being subject to them. He held up his hands in a disarming gesture. "My apologies. No offence intended, friend. There is so much scum that shops here, sometimes it can be hard to tell who belongs in the wizard world and who doesn't. I didn't mean to insult a fellow wizard."

With a winning smile, the boy reached out his hand to Harry. "I'm Draco Malfoy, pleased you meet you."

Harry, feeling very self-conscious about having spoken loudly, accepted his hand. "I'm Harry, Potter that is, and I'm sorry for snapping at you like that... I've been under a lot of pressure."

Draco shoot his hand with slowly widening eyes. "Potter? HARRY Potter? You can't possibly be!"

Harry, now annoyed again, shot him an angry look. "And why is that, I'm not good enough? I've always been Harry Potter, and I don't need to prove it to you."

Draco replied apologetically. "Ah, you get me wrong, Potter... May I call you Harry?" As Harry nodded his assent, he continued. "I'm just surprised to see you, Harry, that's all. Nobody expects to see HARRY POTTER all alone in here, wearing... that". He shot a glance to Harry's worn-out, oversized track suit, but continued before Harry could protest. "I mean, you are one of the most famous wizards of our time! Really, there isn't a child in Britain who didn't grow up hearing about you, even if his name WAS Malfoy... The Potters, as I'm sure you know, are a noble house as well, one of the last of a dying breed, almost equal in age and nobility to house Malfoy! It's an honour to meet you, Harry, it really is."

Harry smiled wearily, accepting the praise from the smooth-talking blonde boy. Oddly, it didn't seem to Harry as if Draco was just trying to butter him up to pick on him again, and he sensed none of the usual falseness of people who said anything nice to him. "I didn't know it was a noble house, actually... I really don't know much at all about, well, about our kind...". As Draco opened his mouth to ask, Harry cut him off. "I really don't want to talk about it. I ended up living with... my aunt and uncle, and they didn't like to think about anything that didn't have to do with the city council or with... seemingly-decent behaviour, I suppose. Lets just leave it."

Draco nodded knowingly. "No problem, Harry. Muggles are irrelevant anyway, we'll both be going to Hogwarts soon, and you won't have to worry about THAT sort. I saw you in Madam Malkin's with... Well, with that thing who was with you.." Before Harry could even think to say anything in Hagrid's defence, Draco continued. "Harry, have you given any thought to which house you would like to be in? I don't know if you're aware, but the Malfoy's have belonged to house Slytherin for generations".

Draco lowered his voice conspiratorially. "It really is the best house, you know. Ravenclaw has its own merit, father said as much, but in Slytherin..." Draco tapped his temple. "They teach you how to THINK. They say that Griffindor teaches people how to be brave, when really it just teaches them never to think, never to plan, and to just rush head-first into whatever trouble you can find". Harry, having long since learned the value of caution, nodded, mentally distancing himself from the house of his parents without realizing he was doing it as Draco manipulated him with skills it had taken a rather large team of exceptionally skilled instructors years to teach him.

"They'll tell you that Ravenclaw is where you go if you want to be smart, but really, all they teach you there is to memorize facts. You aren't smarter just because you know more spells than someone, or because you've read a book they haven't. You're only SMARTER than someone if you can think faster than they do, and out-wit them". Harry once  
again easily agreed, nodding to indicate as much, thinking of years spend avoiding bullies who were bigger than him, but slower.

"And Hufflepuff... Bah. The only thing they will teach you is to smile and be grateful as someone steps on your neck". Harry shivered at this, doing his best to pretend it didn't evoke memories. Thankfully, Draco did not seem to notice. "A house of snivellers and house-elves is what it is. ANYTHING is better than Hufflepuff, I tell you, even Griffindor".

When Draco mentioned the house Harry's parents had been sorted into, he almost spat the name. Draco gave Harry another winning smile. "Harry, you belong in Slytherin house. You're from a noble family, and there aren't that many of us left. We have to stick together, you know."

Harry nodded, slightly skeptical. "I'll definitively check it out. I don't know what I'll pick yet, I haven't decided."

Draco laughed again, in a friendly and frankly disarming manner. "Oh it's not about what you PICK, Harry. They have a test, and it will place you in the house you belong in. You'll see, you belong in Slytherin". Draco looked behind Harry, his smile flickering briefly, before he nodded courteously. "Hello Father".

Harry turned around, and behind him stood a tall man with blonde hair similar to that of his son. Harry had not heard as much of a sound to indicate someone had been coming up behind him, and the man carried himself with the weight of a predator, someone who kills, not for sport, but because it is convenient. He carried a cane with a silver head in the shape of a serpent, and the way he was leaning on it gave the impression that the cane was a dangerous and deadly weapon. The man looked to his son, and barely returned the nod. "Draco. And who might this be?", he asked, with only a slight gesture of his body towards Harry.

Draco, almost imperceptibly, drew in breath sharply. "Father, I would like you to meet Harry Potter. He and I were just talking about how wonderful it is that he has finally returned to our society, and discussing which houses we hope to be assigned to in Hogwarts".

The man sized up Harry, scanning him from top to bottom. He shot a quick glance at Draco, then extended his hand. "A pleasure to meet you, Mister Potter. I am Lucius Malfoy, Lord of the house of Malfoy."

Harry, timidly, shook it. "A pleasure, likewise".

Lucius Malfoy gave him the slightest nod, and then looked to his son. Draco seemed to understand an unspoken command, because he gave Harry an apologetic smile and then moved to follow his father. Before he was gone, he turned to Harry with a smile. "I really do hope to see you in Slytherin house, Potter". With that, the boy was gone and Harry was alone again, thoroughly confused by the strange encounter.


	7. Chapter 7

It was almost 3 hours before Hagrid, finally remembering Harry, staggered into Flourish and Blotts, the book-store on Diagon Alley. As he barged into the store, pushing another customer out of his way, he was obviously panicked, and as soon as he was inside, started yelling "HARRY!", being met with annoyed shushing from patrons.

A few isles down, Harry Potter started and took his head out of a book called 'Kotodama - Japanese magical theory', almost panicking before he remembered that it was Hagrid looking for him. As Hagrid again bellowed "HARRY!", now drawing the attention of the owner, Harry rushed out from among the book-shelves to calm the frantic giant.

"Hagrid! Hagrid, relax, I'm... I'm right here".

Hagrid looked at Harry, blinking as if in disbelief that Harry was intact and unharmed. "Harry, yeh... yeh're alrigh'!". As Hagrid - quite loudly - proclaimed this to the entire store, a very annoyed-looking witch turned to him and shushed him again, this time louder and more aggressively. Hagrid looked embarrassed, mumbled an apology, and looked back to Harry, now looking almost like he was going to cry. "Harry, I was so worried for yeh! Ye must'na scare me like that! I thought somethin' had happened to yeh when I saw how long it had been!"

Harry shot Hagrid an annoyed glance. "Hagrid... I've been right here, the entire time. You said to come get you when I didn't want to browse anymore, and frankly, I still want to browse! I thought you were just, you know, having a good time..." Hagrid noticeably relaxed, but Harry continued before the giant could react, thinking fast. "I mean, it's not like you were drinking and FORGOT about me or anything, was it? No, we were just both caught up in what we were doing and lost track of time, nothing wrong with that at all".

Hagrid looked at him, very slowly considering something, then nodding. "Well... yeh're right, Harry, of course... I dinna mean to forget abou' yeh, honest, but then I was talking and I was reminded that yeh were still here... I'm just glad yeh're safe and sound, Harry, just glad..."

Harry nodded, then gestured to the books in his cauldron, still thinking faster than he ever had. "I did end up spending a bit more time here than we planned, and I guess I picked a few more books than I can really afford with the pocket money I got from my vault... I guess I could pick out which ones I really want, but it would take a while." Looking at Hagrid now with the most innocent and hopeful look he could muster, he continued. "Or, you know... We could get these, and then just pick up a little more gold from Gringots before we go get the wand".

Hagrid considered him, a tiny bit of suspicion in his eyes now, but when no realization dawned on the dense man, he just nodded. "Well okay Harry, I suppose there's no harm in yeh spending a little bit more of yeh inheritance, Lily and James did intend all that for yeh... And these are books, I mean, Dumbledore is always talkin' to me about reading books, I guess... no harm in yeh picking out a few more, is there?"

Harry nodded enthusiastically. "Do you want to go pay for the books, then, and then get the money we'll need for Ollivanders?".

Hagrid considered him and then slowly nodded. "Yeh... lets do that, Harry. Maybe yeh can do something for me too?". Harry nodded his assent. "Maybe, ah, don't tell anyone at school that I forget about yeh like that?".

Harry smiled and easily agreed as he got his way.

After another trip to Gringots, Harry and Hagrid went to Ollivanders, to get the last thing Harry needed from the list of school supplies: A wand. Harry was looking forward to this particular outing, because he, like any other normal child, found the idea of owning a magical wand intensely appealing. And so, it was with a bright and excited expression that Harry rushed into the store ahead of Hagrid.

As he walked through the door, he almost screamed as an old man with bushy white hair and eyebrows turned with startling speed to face him, staring right at him with unsettlingly intense silver eyes. The man starred at him for several long, tense seconds, his gaze seeming to have an almost physical weight. Finally, the old man spoke.

"Harry Potter. I have been waiting for YOU for a long time". With no further explanation, the man turned around and started digging through shelves and opening drawers.

Harry turned to his companion looking quite alarmed. "Hagrid?"

The enormous man just nodded gravely. "Don't yeh mind Mr. Ollivander, Harry. He's a right genius at what he does, and that's what matters, Harry".

Harry nodded, not feeling entirely reassured. Almost immediately, the white-haired man yelled in excitement, standing up from behind one of the counters and then darted towards an increasingly alarmed Harry. Once there he trust a wand into Harry's hand, and gave him an excited look. Harry just gave him a confused look in return.

"Well go on then, Mr. Potter. Give it a wave!".

For a few seconds, Harry felt like she should demand more information, but then relented and waved the wand, jumping in alarm as something that sounded like glass exploded in the back of the store.

Mr Ollivander gave him an slightly sad look. "It was not to be, then. This, Mr. Potter, is the twin wand of your fathers. Mahogany, eleven inches, quite pliable. Excellent for transfiguration, especially. Your right IS your wand hand, then?"

"My... wand hand? I'm right-handed, if that's what you mean". Mr. Ollivander simply nodded in satisfaction, before going back to looking through shelves.

Mr. Ollivander trust wand after wand into his hand, but each time Harry would flick one of them, nothing - or something terrible - would happen. Harry, at this point, had stopped trying to apologize for the damages he was causing to the store, since, rather than upset, it seemed the wand-maker got more excited with every wand he rejected on Harry's behalf. Harry, at this point a little weary of the whole experience, had almost stopped paying attention when Mr. Ollivander stopped very suddenly, seemingly staring intently at a particular wand. Since the old man had been moving incessantly the entire time Harry had been in the store, he could not help but pay attention, and so overheard Ollivander muttering to himself: "I wonder..."

Slowly, carefully, as if walking on dangerous ground, the silver-haired man approached Harry again, before very slowly handing him a bright-wooded wand with a dark handle, pointing it carefully away from himself as if it was a loaded gun.

Harry, although suspicious, accept the wand, and immediately felt that this one was different. As he touched the wood, a warm and yet intense feeling shot through his arm and spread into his body. He felt as if his fingers were almost charged with static electricity, and he felt, very strong, that this was not merely a piece of wood, not merely a wand, but an extension of himself. Moreover, he felt as if the wand was talking to him, as if it was YELLING at him, in fact. If the wand was truly speaking, it was saying only a single word: Power.

It was only then Harry realized he had been standing silently with the wand for an uncomfortable stretch of time, and as he snapped out of the trance and looked to Mr. Ollivanders, the man was giving him a strange, appraising look. With a soft voice, the old man spoke. "Curious. Most curious".

Harry lowered the wand, trying to ignore how heavy it felt in his hand. "I'm sorry, but... what's curious, exactly?", he asked.

The man just nodded, as if answering a question only he could hear. "It is curious, Mr. Potter, that you of all people should be destined for this wand. It is holly with a core of phoenix feather, 11 inches. As it happens, the phoenix whose tail feather is in your wand, it gave only one other feather - just one other. And the brother of this wand, Mr. Potter... why, it's brother was wielded by the Dark Lord. By the man who gave you the scar on your forehead".

Harry was stunned to silence.

"Yes, thirteen-and-a-half inches, yew, that one was... Curious indeed how these things happen. The wand, you see, chooses the wizard, and not the other way around. It has always been like that. We must expect great things from you, Mr. Potter, that much is becoming clear. The Dark Lord, he-who-must-not-be-named, after all, accomplished great things... Dark, and terrible, yes. But great".

Harry shivered somewhere deep inside himself and paid for the wand as he quickly as he could, escaping the store without a word of gratitude.


	8. Chapter 8

It was only two days until Harry was supposed to leave for Hogwarts, and he was starting to get excited. More excited, in fact, than he had been his entire life. Harry had mostly been left to himself, with occasional visits from McGonagall or Hagrid, and while Harry was happy for the company, he also didn't mind being left alone.

He had his books, he had a room all to himself, which was never too cold or too warm, he had food whenever he wanted it and mostly importantly, he had safety. Nobody would barge into his room to hurt him, and nobody would take away his books and destroy them, wanting to deny him companionship even from fictional or historical characters.

And he was learning. Quickly. Harry had always liked books, but he had not had much access to them in his life with the Dursley's. He had always been interested in history in particular, and getting access to wizarding history had been beyond interesting. It was fascinating, if not outright enrapturing. Witches and wizards, it turned out, had a hand in almost every major event in the world pretty much since the dawn of history. Even more interestingly, wizarding history seemed to reach back almost 100,000 years, about 70,000 years longer than recorded muggle history.

Harry had read about Grindelwald's use of the Nazi concentration camp in his rituals, he had read about British wizards using the muggle nuclear bomb to finally force the wizarding society of Japan to share their secrets, and he had read about the still dangerous and powerful Empire of Moscow, which held the countries of the now-seemingly-dissolving Soviet sphere in an iron grip, and had for almost 4 centuries.

Harry sighed deeply. Wizarding society, it seemed, was at least as violent as muggle society. Wars had been waged, genocides had been committed, the entire continent of Atlantis had even been erased from time by Roman wizards... and yet, the muggles knew nothing of this. Entire cities were wiped out in what Harry had known as the second world war, apparently known as either the Wars of the New Rome or the Wars of Resistance to wizards, and very often, magic had been more than just a little involved. And yet, muggles knew nothing about any of this.

Muggles did not even know about the magical creatures which wizarding society had decided should be protected by the International Statute of Secrecy, even the ones that were incredibly dangerous to the them. Dragons, trolls, dementors, demons and untold horrible predators, all these things roamed the world, often unhindered, and all wizards did was make sure nobody found out. Great spells to prevent magical creatures from being recorded or photographed existed and were actively maintained, but hardly anyone cared if a small muggle town was destroyed by a dragon and had to be wiped from muggle memory.

The wizarding world was as large, complex and scary as the muggle one, but it seemed to barely understand muggle society at all. Since the passing of the statute of secrecy, wizards did not usually interact with the muggle world at all. One of Harry's school-books had pointed out that in Britain, the muggle prime minister was briefed by the minister of magic and would be informed of any major events in the magical world that also affected the muggle world. This was, apparently, seen as a sign that Wizarding Britain was a very open and progressive society, as most societies simply outright controlled or ignored muggle governments.

The witch-hunts of the medieval, it seemed, had not been as unjustified as muggle history made them out to be. While the scale of the witch-hunts had, of course, been overstated by more modern muggle historians, thousands of people had been tortured and tried for witchcraft, some even burned at the stake. Thousands of innocent muggles had died, while actual witches and wizards had use flame-freezing charms and other spells to protect themselves. But there had been actual crimes against the muggles, which the frantic and half-blind burnings had been a response to. Eventually, in 1682, a group had gathered calling itself the International Confederation of Wizards which had ratified the statute of secrecy and the laws that protected the muggle population from too much and too overt abuse.

Yet the book also mentioned that much of the world had not agreed to these treaties. The Muscowian and Ottoman Empires had refused to sign, while the wizards of the Chinese Forbidden Kingdom and Japanese wizard-monks had completely refused to attend even the conference. There had been no mention of African wizards in any of Harry's books and he shuddered to think exactly to what extend colonialism and racism had been taken to in the parallel society of witches and wizards.

Still, Harry did not let it dissuade him. Muggle history had plenty of unpleasant surprises, and even wizards, it seemed, were merely human. His books had also talked about recent social improvements, after all, and since the 1860's, muggle-born wizards were no longer killed when discovered, but were rather trained and welcomed into the wizarding world. Britain, the book had pointed out, was one of the most tolerant countries when it came to muggleborns, excepting of course the United States, where muggleborns had recently started making up a majority of the admittedly small wizarding population.

There were exceptions, as there always was, with Voldemort and his Knights of Walpurgis as the most famous, to the narrative that magical Britain was more tolerant than other magical societies. But the muggle world had its own fair share of bigots and extremists. Harry could not forget the IRA bombings that had plagued London and Ireland for his entire life, or the Red Army Faction attacks on the continent.

Harry's train of thought was interrupted by a soft tapping on the door. It would be professor McGonagall, here for their scheduled sessions where he was allowed to practice spell-casting.

-

It was the day Harry was supposed to leave for Hogwarts, and Hagrid had escorted him to King's Cross station, where Harry was scheduled to board the train to Hogwarts. Harry was excited, more excited than he had ever been in his life, in fact. He looked down at the ticket Hagrid had given him, and re-read it a few times to assert that he wasn't mistaken. It read, quite clearly, platform 9 and three-quarters.

Harry turned to Hagrid to ask, but before he could get a word out, Hagrid spoke in an apologetic tone. "I'm awfully sorry Harry, but I've got to leave yeh here. Dumbledore has an important task for me, you see". As Hagrid spoke, his eyes glistened with pride. "I've got be off, yeh see. Dumbledore, a great man, he is. Great man. Trusts me with the most important matters, he does".

As Hagrid stood there happily nodding to himself, an annoyed Harry cleared his throat. "Hagrid, do you know how I'm supposed to get to platform... 9 and three-quarters? Is that a misprint or something, anyway?". Hagrid nodded, clearly not having any idea. "I don't rightly remember Harry, I'm sorry to say, and I really need to get goin'...".

Harry sighed and ran his hand over his face. "Fine, Hagrid. Will there at least be other people here going to Hogwarts? Someone I can look out for and follow?". As he looked towards the Hogwarts groundskeeper, he saw only the man's back as he was walking out of the station. With another sigh, Harry muttered to himself. "Fine, then. I'll find my own bloody way there".

Harry looked around and decided his first step was obvious: Finding platforms 9 and 10. Once he actually got there, it seemed quite obvious where he was meant to go, although he couldn't see how to actually get there. On the column in the centre of the walkway that lead to platforms 9 and 10 was a drawing of a door. It was a pretty good drawing, but it was obviously a drawing. After looking at it for a few seconds, Harry noticed that people around him didn't seem to look at it all and he concluded it must have a charm on it like the Leaky Cauldron, to keep muggles from noticing it existed at all. Harry had learned that such charms also prevented things from appearing in photographs.

As Harry was looking at the drawn door and trying to decide whether he should just try and walk straight into it, he was pulled back to reality by the hooting of an owl. Turning to look, Harry saw a red-headed family group with more kids than he could count, and overheard them talking. A woman who was obviously the mother of the kids spoke. "Okay Ron, there's the entrance to the platform. Just go straight for it dear, we'll follow, the train to Hogwarts isn't leaving for another half an hour"

It seemed like they were going to Hogwarts too. This was Harry's chance to find out how to get there, and before the boy who had been addressed as 'Ron' could walk through the portal, Harry approached the group, pushing his luggage.

"Um... excuse me?".

The red-haired woman turned to face him, smiling broadly.

"Yes, dear?"

"Could you, ah, perhaps..."

"Ah, are you wondering how to get onto the platform, maybe?".

Harry nodded, embarrassed at his own ignorance. Hogwarts: A history hadn't said anything about how to actually get unto the platform.

"Don't you worry in the least, it's easy, actually. You just have to walk into the portal and think, "To Hogwarts". Be sure to think that once your cart his the wall, and when you hit it, too, and you won't have any trouble at all getting through to the platform". The red-headed woman shot him an almost scary-wide smile. "First year at Hogwarts then?"

Harry just nodded. "Y-yeah, it is. My... aunt and uncle are muggles, that's why they're not dropping me off".

The woman just nodded knowingly. "It's my little Ron's first year as well", indicating a freckled boy with ginger hair matching that of the other children who had feet and hands that seemed too large for his skinny frame. "Hi", the ginger boy said timidly. Harry returned his greeting just as timidly.

The woman gave them both a patronizing smile and indicated towards the drawn-on doorway. "Off with the two of you, then. We'll see you on the other side, Ron". With a friendly smile to Harry, she added "and you as well".

Harry looked to the red-haired boy who looked just as uncomfortable with the idea of running into a wall as he was. They both shrugged, and Harry steered his cart towards the wall and pushed. His nerves made him go at a bit of a run, and he closed his eyes expecting to slam into the wall, another cruel prank pulled on Harry Potter.

Instead, he simply kept running and felt the air around him change, becoming cooler and a little cleaner. He opened his eyes and saw hundreds of children like himself, many of them dressed in ropes that reminded him of McGonagall, all standing in front of the ancient-looking steam train that was destined to carry him to Hogwarts.


	9. Chapter 9

Harry exhaled deeply, not realizing he had been holding his breath ever since walking onto platform 9 and three-quarters. He caught his breath again and looked to the red-haired boy next to him, Ron. They shared a smile of amazement of the kind that only 11-year-old boys know before both taking in the scene.

Dozens of families stood all around them, some with owls and most with stacks of suitcases, some of them moving on their own or floating. Harry and Ron both were captivated by the scene until someone yelled out from behind them. "Get out of the way!". The both flinched as the red-haired twins who were presumably Ron's older brothers burst through the arched doorway - wait, arched doorway? - and quickly pushed their carts of luggage out of the way as the rest of the rather large family came through the portal.

Once everyone were through, Ron's mother gave him a stern look, and a now blushing Ron turned back to Harry. "We, well, we probably should have seen that coming". And with that, both boys broke down laughing, a step closer to becoming friends.

Soon after, Harry had been introduced to the entire family, who he now knew were called the Weasley's. Each one had greeted him warmly, except the oldest, Percy, who had simply shook his hand and said "charmed". The family, once introductions were out of the way, seemed content to leave him with Ron, almost pushing the two of them off together to let them talk.

Harry looked at the other boy, feeling a bit shy now that the moment from before had passed. "So, uh, this your first year at Hogwarts, too?".

Ron nodded. "It feels like I've been waiting for 100 years to finally be allowed to go. Fred and George, the twins you know, always tease me about it..." he looks towards them, seemingly hoping to avoid their attention for even a little while. Ron looked at Harry, a glance flicking to his forehead. "What's your name anyway?"

Harry felt a little annoyed but tried to not let it show. "Harry... Potter, that is, and yes, I really am the actual Harry potter".

Ron's eyes widened until it almost seemed they would pop out of his skull, but before he could start a rant about how amazing it was that Harry was, in fact, Harry, he was interrupted by a voice from behind him.

"Potter", the voice said casually. "I thought I would see you here".

Looking behind Ron, Harry now saw Draco, this time not accompanied by his father and shooting him pleasant smile. He walked over and put his hand on Harry's shoulder, shaking his hand in a manner which to Harry seemed oddly adult. Draco looked to Ron with obvious distaste. "Potter, please do tell me this isn't a Weasley".

Before a very confused Harry could speak, Ron's freckled face grew bright red and he began to talk at a volume that was almost yelling. "What if I am? And you, you must be a Malfoy! Only a Malfoy could look so self-satisfied while wearing such an ugly face".

"Uhm", Harry managed to mutter before Draco snorted.

"Is that the best you can think of? And yes, you really are a Weasley. Red hair, freckles, second-hand robe and truck...". He shot a glance towards the rest of the family, Ron's mother seeming preoccupied with stopping the twins from doing... something, before continuing. "... and more kids than you can feed. Definitively Weasley".

Draco ignored Ron's sputtered reply and turned back to Harry. "Potter, you really must learn that there are two kinds of wizarding families. The Weasley's, as you'll learn, have forgotten their heritage almost entirely".

Before Ron could retort, Harry had finally had enough and tried to cut them off. "Would you two just...". Ron, however, ignored Harry entirely, speaking over him.

"The Malfoy's, Harry, they followed You-Know-Who! His father", Ron said, pointing at Draco with venom, "is still a Knight of Walpurgis. My dad said so!"

As Draco started to fling out fresh insults, Harry walked away.

Harry hurried inside the train, eager to get away from the two boys arguing outside. Also not eager to get into another "Are you really Harry Potter?" conversation, he slid into the first cart that looked empty. On entering, he saw that it wasn't empty, not exactly, but was occupied by a solitary girl with bushy brown hair. She looked up at Harry and raised an eyebrow as he entered.

"Uh, hi. Can I sit in here?", Harry asked nervously.

The bushy-haired girl, looking very serious, said matter-of-factly. "Of course you can. This is the Hogwarts express, and all students are permitted to sit where they wish, excepting the prefect's compartments".

"Oh. Um. Okay", Harry said, taken aback by the girl's rant, sitting down as far away from her as possible and looking out the window.

The girl kept talking. "I'm Hermione Granger. And who are you, then?". Her tone was bossy and demanding, and Harry was annoyed with her insistence. "I'm, uh, Harry. Nice to meet you, Hermione".

The girl nodded, seemingly satisfied with his answer before continuing to talk, her tone demanding. "I'm new to this whole magic business, but I've finished reading our school-books for the year and it all doesn't seem to difficult. What spells do you know how to cast?"

For every word she spoke, Harry was getting more annoyed with the girl. "Only a few, really, I wasn't allowed to practice that often... And I've read the school-books, too, you know", he finished, defensively.

The girl's face had a weird expression, which Harry couldn't place as she listened to him talk. As he finished, she pulled a bright, wooden wand out of her robes and pointed it straight at Harry's face, causing him to freeze up. "Oculus Reparo!" she intoned in a triumphant voice. Harry flinched as, with a small crack, his glasses mended the damage and scratches a combination of Dudley and natural wear had inflicted. His glasses were cleaner than they had ever been, and it even felt like his eye-sight was better, but before Harry could enjoy his new-and-improved glasses the girl continued in a demanding, almost mocking tone.

"Your turn, then."

Harry, now feeling insulted, pulled out his own wand, desperate to upstage the infuriating girl. "Lumos!", Harry intoned, lighting up his wand, but his feeling of vindication almost instantly evaporated as Hermione pointed her wand at his and with an intonation of "Nox!" put the light from Harry's wand back out, giving him a triumphant, challenging look. Harry was going to get this girl, now. There was just no way he could let her get away this this.

The contest between the first-years carried on, and soon their compartment was filled with small birds, the seats were soaked with water and small bubbles floated through the air, competing with the birds for air-space. Harry stood breathing deeply and watched Hermione, who had easily upstaged him at each turn. She had cast a spell to clean the soap Harry had summoned off of the windows, and Harry, frankly, could not think of any more spells. As he stood and watched her smug expression he felt his mind draw a blank.

Hermione smiled, infuriatingly. "Is that really it, then? Is that really all the spells you know? Because I know at least 10 more". Harry might have attacked her right there and then, if not for a sudden interruption as the door to the compartment slid open.

"What on EARTH have you two been doing in here?", Percy Weasley demanded, sliding open the door, his prefect badge placed very visibly and prominenently on his chest.

Harry froze on the spot. They had gotten caught and now they were in trouble. Before he could start to stammer out an excuse, the bushy-haired girl spoke up again, sounding as infuriatingly confident as ever.

"Oh prefect, nothing you really need to concern yourself. We were just practising spells, nothing dangerous, just the practice ones in the first year books. Isn't that right, Harry?". She turned to him, her voice bright and not in the least indicative of their angry contest.

Her confidence, however, rubbed off on Harry who also spoke with a steady voice. "That's right, prefect... what was your name, again?", Harry asked, using a trick he had seen adults use to disarm each other. He received a reply, "Weasley", and nodded as if that was almost self evident. "Well, prefect Weasley, since this is the Hogwarts express, I believe we are allowed to practice simple, harmless spells. Isn't that right?"

The tall boy, Ron's elder brother, flushed red and looked like he was thinking of a good excuse to get mad. "What are your names? Both of you!" he demanded.

Hermione, seeming suddenly like she might crumple into dust any moment as the prefect seemed half-scolded them, spoke with a timid voice. "Hermione Granger, prefect Weasley".

The perfect nodded. "I see. And you? Harry, was it?". He turned his eyes to Harry.

Harry, quite annoyed that this was probably all about to start up again, sighed internally and replied emotionlessly. When he introduced himself to the Weasley's before, he had intentionally avoided using his last name. "Harry. Harry Potter."

The older boy stood there quietly and watched him for what seemed an eternity and Hermione also turned her head slowly to glance at him with widening eyes. Finally, mercifully, the prefect spoke up. "I... see. Well, then, mister... mister Potter. Miss Granger. Just be aware that... that the two of you were causing a disturbance. See to it that it does not happen again". With that, he turned around and stormed out of the compartment, closing the door behind him with a slam.

Hermione turned to Harry and began to question him about his identity, but their tense moment of feeling trapped by the prefect had put them closer to being friends than Harry had been with anyone else in his life.


	10. Chapter 10

Hogwarts was finally in sight. Harry's stomach almost dropped as, on the horizon, he saw a great castle becoming visible over a hill. Hermione confirmed to him what he already knew that it was, indeed, Hogwarts, and Harry couldn't help but laugh out loud.

Finally, he was here. At Hogwarts. At this place, this school of magic, that claimed to have a place for him... a place to learn magic. More importantly, a place to become what he never had a chance to be - someone that nobody could push around.

Harry smiled to himself trying to imagine Dudley's face if he turned him into a frog. He didn't think frog-Dudley would be particularly inclined to bully him. And wasn't that the sort of things that Wizards did? Defend themselves against evil attackers, and turn them into frogs? Harry had certainly read about wizards who did such things.

On the way to Hogwarts, as Harry and Hermione got acquainted and moved across the "Oh my god it's Harry Potter" stage, Harry had bought a chocolate frog from the lady with the trolley. Him and Hermione had both gasped as the chocolate frog had jumped out of the box, as if it was alive. Once him and Hermione had caught it, they had debated whether or not to eat it, but had both resolved to just lock it back in the box, take the card and let kids who knew more about whether chocolate frogs were alive deal with such things.

The card said Merlin. On the front of card was a picture of, well, Merlin. An old man with a giant, point white beard, a pointy hat and a cloak, both blue and covered in stars. As Harry watched in disbelief, the picture of the wizard simply walked and left the card.

On the card, there was a simple, short text. "Merlin is the most famous wizard of all time. He is sometimes known as the Prince of Enchanters and was part of the Court of King Arthur." All of Harry's new historical books had informed him that Merlin was, in fact, literally a great wizard who was part of the court of King Arthur. Muggles had recently announced that they could prove that there had never been a king Arthur. That he was, in fact, a combination of many historical kings, one of which was probably named Arthur.

Harry's books had told him about the 4 houses of Hogwarts, Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff and Slytherin. The books said that Merlin had been in Slytherin. In fact, most of the history books Harry had bought had been written by Slytherins. From what best he could tell, each house represented both the philosophy of a medieval wizard as well as a general line of thinking about Wizardry.

Godric Gryffindor, in spite of being a calculating strategist, had focused on bravery. He believed that one should always do what is right, even when it was difficult or scary. Gryffindor praised those who risk and loose their lives in pursuit of the greater good, and believed the individual has a responsibility to improve the world. He fought vocally for the belief that all magical children deserved knowledge of magic. Godric had believed that children should first and foremost be thought to value the greater good and to help those in need.

Rowena Ravenclaw was a brilliant, Scottish witch who was renowned throughout all the magical kingdoms of the world as a great enchantress. Her creations, unlike those of lesser enchanters, had stood the test of the ages and were a lasting testament to her skill, Azkaban and Hogwarts foremost amongst her major accomplishments. Without the help of Rowena, Hogwarts in its present, magical state could not have been built. The same is true of the 4 other schools in magical Britain, a country which seemed to almost but not entirely overlap with muggle Britain. Rowena had thought that knowledge of magic was empowering, and that the world was better off if people took the time to learn why to do things rather than just how.

Helga Hufflepuff had run orphanages for magical children, teaching those under her care the basics of magic as their parents would have in her stead. Without Helga, orphaned wizarding children had often been neglected and abused, but she had provided them homes if there were no kindly relatives with whom the children wanted to stay. Harry couldn't help but frown. He certainly hadn't been placed with "kindly" relatives, or received any magical education as a child. She had believed that the most important thing is to better oneself, and believed magical education should include things like etiquette and caring for magical creatures and animals.

Salazar Slytherin, the founder of the house to which Merlin had belonged, was the last and most mysterious of Hogwarts' founders. Salazar had been a pure-blood wizard, who strongly objected to talk of educating muggleborn children. He believed that children not born in wholesome wizarding families would not grow up mentally stable, and that educating them magic might one day cause a catastrophe as great as the one that had erased Atlantis from time. He thought that it was safer to remove magic from those children, to ensure they could live equally with muggles and not cause harm to anyone by accidental magic.

These four wizards had come together to create Hogwarts, the foremost academy for Witchcraft and Wizardry in all of Europe. The quality of the education at Hogwarts had given magical Britain power unrivalled in the world, which it used to secure it's global empire. Hogwarts combined these 4 philosophies of magic and taught wizards and witches the basics of magic, both in practical and theoretical fields. Once a child had graduated from Hogwarts, they were seen as ready for battle magic academies or guild universities and could pursue jobs as government officials. Some wizard families only worked sporadically, obtaining money from muggles converted into magical currency. They relied on their property and their house-elves to provide for them and maintain their homes, and had no need for a steady income.

Harry wasn't sure which house he belonged to, but he felt that each sought to represent a noble ambition. Go to Gryffindor, and you will be strong. Get sorted into Ravenclaw, and you will be wise and mighty. Choose Hufflepuff, and be the very best you can be. Learn from Slytherin and you will learn how to obtain your heart's desire.

Harry forgot about the 4 houses as Hogwarts itself came into view over the great lake. Towers shifted and swayed, and the entire school seemed to rock gently. The building itself radiated magic and the children all fell silent, regardless of magical heritage. This was Hogwarts. The legendary school of magic, where Merlin himself had studied. Great witches and wizards were trained at this school, including Dumbledore, it's current headmaster and Voldemort, the legendary dark wizard who had killed Harry's parents and give him the recognizable scar on his forehead.

Part 2: Choices

The doors to the great hall swung open only seconds after Hagrid, who had escorted the first-years to the castle, knocked in the great, inscribed wooden gates. The witch who had opened the doors with a swift flick of her wand was Minerva McGonagall, the stern headmistress of Hogwarts who had helped rescue Harry from the Dursley's and bring him to live at the leaky cauldron. Hagrid walked up to her, proudly indicating towards the flock of children. "The firs' years, Professor McGonagall!".

McGonagall, who Harry remembered had been sorted into Gryffindor scanned each face in the crowd with a look of mild annoyance and disappointment. Her gaze dwelt on Harry for a few, long seconds before she spoke. "Thank you, Hagrid. I will take them from here."

She pulled the door wide. The entrance hall was so big you could have fit the whole of the Dursleys' house in it. The stone walls were lit with flaming torches like the ones at Gringots, the ceiling was too high to make out, and a magnificent marble staircase facing them led to the upper floors.

They followed Professor McGonagall across the flagged stone floor. Harry could hear the drone of hundreds of voices from a doorway to the right — the rest of the school must already be here — but Professor McGonagall showed the first years into a small, empty chamber off the hall. They crowded in, standing rather closer together than they would usually have done, peering about nervously.

"Welcome to Hogwarts," said Professor McGonagall. "The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony because, while you are here, your house will be something like your family within Hogwarts. You will have classes with the rest of your house, sleep in your house dormitory, and spend free time in your house common room.

"The four houses are called Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. Each house has its own noble history and each has produced outstanding witches and wizards. While you are at Hogwarts, your triumphs will earn your house points, while any rule-breaking will lose house points. At the end of the year, the house with the most points is awarded the house cup, a great honour. I hope each of you will be a credit to whichever house becomes yours. "The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school. I suggest you all smarten yourselves up as much as you can while you are waiting."

Her eyes lingered for a moment on the cloak of a boy Harry didn't know, which was fastened under his left ear, and on Ron's smudged nose. Harry nervously tried to flatten his hair. "I shall return when we are ready for you," said Professor McGonagall. "Please wait quietly." She left the chamber. Harry swallowed.

"How exactly do they sort us into houses?" Harry read Ron ask another boy in the crowd. The boy replied, unsure. "Some sort of test, I think. My big brother said it hurts a lot, but I think he was joking."

Harry's heart gave a horrible jolt. A test? In front of the whole school? But he didn't know that much magic yet — Hermione was ahead of him in every topic! What on earth would he have to do? He hadn't expected something like this the moment they arrived. He looked around anxiously and saw that everyone else looked terrified, too. No one was talking much except Hermione Granger, who was whispering very fast about all the spells she'd learned and wondering which one she'd need. Harry tried hard not to listen to her. He'd never been more nervous, never, not even when he'd had to take a school report home to the Dursleys saying that he'd somehow turned his teacher's wig blue.

He kept his eyes fixed on the door. Any second now, Professor McGonagall would come back and lead him to his doom.

Then something happened that made him jump about a foot in the air — several people behind him screamed.

"What the ...?"

He gasped. So did the people around him. About twenty ghosts had just streamed through the back wall. Pearly-white and slightly transparent, they glided across the room talking to one another and hardly glancing at the first years. They seemed to be arguing. What looked like a fat little monk was saying: "Forgive and forget, I say, we ought to give him a second chance ..."

A ghost wearing a ruff and tight s had suddenly noticed the first years.

Nobody answered. "New students!" said the Fat Friar, smiling around at them. "About to be Sorted, I suppose?"

A few people nodded mutely.

"Hope to see you in Hufflepuff!" said the Friar. "My old house, you know."

"Move along now," said a sharp voice. "The Sorting Ceremony's about to start." Professor McGonagall had returned. One by one, the ghosts floated away through the opposite wall.

"Now, form a line," Professor McGonagall told the first years, "and follow me."

Feeling oddly as though his legs had turned to lead, Harry got into line behind a boy with sandy hair, with Ron behind him, and they walked out of the chamber, back across the hall, and through a pair of double door s into the Great Hall.

Harry had never even imagined such a strange and splendid place. It was lit by thousands and thousands of candles that were floating in midair over four long tables, where the rest of the students were sitting. These tables were laid with glittering golden plates and goblets. At the top of the hall was another long table where the teachers were sitting. Professor McGonagall led the first years up here, so that they came to a halt in a line facing the other students, with the teachers behind them. The hundreds of faces staring at them looked like pale lanterns in the flickering candlelight. Dotted here and there among the students, the ghosts shone misty silver. Mainly to avoid all the staring eyes, Harry looked upward and saw a velvety black ceiling dotted with stars. He heard Hermione whisper, "Its bewitched to look like the sky outside. I read about it in Hogwarts, A History."

It was hard to believe there was a ceiling there at all, and that the Great Hall didn't simply open on to the heavens. Harry quickly looked down again as Professor McGonagall silently placed a four-legged stool in front of the first years. On top of the stool she put a pointed wizard's hat. This hat was patched and frayed and extremely dirty. Aunt Petunia wouldn't have let it in the house.

Maybe they had to try and get a rabbit out of it, Harry thought wildly, that seemed the sort of thing — noticing that everyone in the hall was now staring at the hat, he stared at it, too. For a few seconds, there was complete silence. Then the hat twitched. A rip near the brim opened wide like a mouth — and the hat began to sing:

"Oh, you may not think I'm pretty, But don't judge on what you see, I'll eat myself if you can find A smarter hat than me.

You can keep your bowlers black, Your top hats sleek and tall, For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat And I can cap them all.

There's nothing hidden in your head The Sorting Hat can't see, So try me on and I will tell you Where you ought to be.

You might belong in Gryffindor, Where dwell the brave at heart, Their daring, nerve, and chivalry Set Gryffindors apart;

You might belong in Hufflepuff, Where they are just and loyal, Those patient Hufflepuffs are true And unafraid of toil;

Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw, if you've a ready mind, Where those of wit and learning, Will always find their kind;

Or perhaps in Slytherin You'll make your real friends, Those cunning folk use any means To achieve their ends.

So put me on! Don't be afraid! And don't get in a flap! You're in safe hands (though I have none), For I'm a Thinking Cap!"

The whole hall burst into applause as the hat finished its song. It bowed to each of the four tables and then became quite still again.

"So we've just got to try on the hat!" Ron whispered to to the boy next to him. "I'll kill Fred, he was going on about wrestling a troll."

Harry smiled weakly. Yes, trying on the hat was a lot better than having to do a spell, but he did wish they could have tried it on without everyone watching. The hat seemed to be asking rather a lot; Harry didn't feel brave or quick-witted or any of it at the moment. If only the hat had mentioned a house for people who felt a bit queasy, that would have been the one for him.

Professor McGonagall now stepped forward holding a long roll of parchment. "When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted," she said. "Abbott, Hannah!"

A pink-faced girl with blonde pigtails stumbled out of line, put on the hat, which fell right down over her eyes, and sat down. A moments pause — "HUFFLEPUFF!" shouted the hat. The table on the right cheered and clapped as Hannah went to sit down at the Hufflepuff table. Harry saw the ghost of the Fat Friar waving merrily at her.

"Bones, Susan!"

"HUFFLEPUFF!" shouted the hat again, and Susan scuttled off to sit next to Hannah.

"Boot, Terry!"

"RAVENCLAW!" The table second from the left clapped this time; several Ravenclaws stood up to shake hands with Terry as he joined them.

"Brocklehurst, Mandy" went to Ravenclaw too, but "Brown, Lavender" became the first new Gryffindor, and the table on the far left exploded with cheers;

Harry could see Ron's twin brothers catcalling. "Bulstrode, Millicent", who then became a Slytherin.

He was starting to feel definitely sick now. He remembered being picked for teams during gym at his old school. He had always been last to be chosen, not because he was no good, but because no one wanted Dudley to think they liked him.

"Finch-Fletchley, Justin!"

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

Sometimes, Harry noticed, the hat shouted out the house at once, but at others it took a little while to decide. "Finnigan, Seamus," the sandy-haired boy next to Harry in the line, sat on the stool for almost a whole minute before the hat declared him a Gryffindor.

"Granger, Hermione!" Hermione almost ran to the stool and jammed the hat eagerly on her head. "RAVENCLAW!" shouted the hat, and the Ravenclaw table applauded as she ran to the table, greeting her new house-mates.

A horrible thought struck Harry, as horrible thoughts always do when you're very nervous. What if he wasn't chosen at all? What if he just sat there with the hat over his eyes for ages, until Professor McGonagall jerked it off his head and said there had obviously been a mistake and he'd better get back on the train?

When Neville Longbottom, a timid-looking boy, was called, he fell over on his way to the stool. The hat took a long time to decide with Neville. When it finally shouted, "GRYFFINDOR," Neville ran off still wearing it, and had to jog back amid gales of laughter to give it to "MacDougal, Morag."

Harry saw Draco swagger forward when his name was called and got his wish at once: the hat had barely touched his head when it screamed, "SLYTHERIN!"

Malfoy went to join his a small group of boys already seated at the Slytherin table, looking pleased with himself.

There weren't many people left now. "Moon"... , "Nott"... , "Parkinson"... , then a pair of twin girls, "Patil" and "Patil"... , then "Perks, Sally-Anne"... , and then, at last — "Potter, Harry!"

As Harry stepped forward, whispers suddenly broke out like little hissing fires all over the hall.

"Potter, did she say?"

"The Harry Potter?"

The last thing Harry saw before the hat dropped over his eyes was the hall full of people craning to get a good look at him. Next second he was looking at the black inside of the hat. He waited.

"Hmm," said a small voice in his ear. "Difficult. Very difficult. Plenty of courage, I see. Not a bad mind either. There's talent, A my goodness, yes — and a nice thirst to prove yourself, now that's interesting... So where shall I put you?"

Harry paused. The hat could hear him think?

The hat replied before he could think to even verbalize his confusion. "Of course I can hear you think. I'm a thinking-cap, after all. I help you think. Very powerful artifact, I am. Now... you are a difficult one, are you not? What do you truly seek, from life and from yourself?"

Harry stopped to think about it. What did he seek? Perhaps an end to being bullied? Being weak? Or, maybe he wanted to be a better person? To make others happy? Harry thought of all his years with the Dursley's. No, Harry was tired of being pushed around. This was a new start for him, a new beginning. He wanted to be himself, to just be Harry, without having people pick on him and beat him up. Harry wanted to be strong, and so he thought to himself. "Not Hufflepuff, just not Hufflepuff".

"Not Hufflepuff, eh?" said the small voice. "Are you sure? You could be happy there, you know, it's all here in your head, and Hufflepuff will help you on the way to to radiance, no doubt about that — no? Well, if you're sure — better be SLYTHERIN!"

The entire hall fell completely silent as Harry took off the hat, walking towards the Slytherin table. There was no applause for him, only empty faces watching him solemnly, before a single, slow clap started at the edge of the Slytherin table and spread to the rest of Harry's new house-mates. The boy who had stood up to applaud Harry had, of course, been Draco Malfoy, and soon after all the other Slytherins started clapping, the other houses joining in only timidly and briefly. Only the Gryffindor table seemed to refuse to cheer for Harry, as they had cheered for all children until now, except those who were sorted into Slytherin.


	11. Chapter 11

Harry could see the High Table properly now, sitting at the Slytherin table in the great hall. At the end nearest him sat Hagrid, who oddly seemed to avoid Harry's gaze as Harry tried to wave. And there, in the centre of the High Table, in a large gold chair, sat Albus Dumbledore. Harry recognized him at easily, and the old man was wearing the same scruffy-looking cloak he had been wearing when he had visited Harry at the Leaky Tavern. Dumbledore's silver hair was the only thing in the whole hall that shone as brightly as the ghosts.

And now there were only three people left to be sorted.

Harry mostly stopped paying attention to the sorting ceremony now that his own sorting was over, but still overheard that "Weasley, Ron" was sorted into Gryffindor, like he had wanted.

The children around him were staring at him and whispering, but Harry chose to ignore them completely. In front of him was an empty, golden plate, and seeing the empty plate made him realize how hungry he was. Harry turned his head to see Draco sit down next to him, smiling, but before he could say anything the sound of a small fork tapping on crystal was heard. Somehow, the small, crisp sound was heard perfectly throughout the great hall, and all conversation fell quiet as the students turned their heads towards the head table where Headmaster Dumbledore had stood up.

The headmaster cleared his throat gently which, somehow, was also perfectly audible throughout the hall. "Welcome! Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our feast, I would like to say a few words. And here they are! Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak! Thank you!". Looking perfectly pleased with himself, he sat back down as if the whole situation was completely normal and before Harry could begin to try and understand what had just happened, a feast unlike anything he had seen in his entire life magically appeared on the tables before them.

As Harry took in the excess of food, Draco put a hand on his shoulder and reached in, shaking his hand and grinning happily. "Congratulations, Potter! You got sorted into Slytherin!". Harry smiled timidly, unsure of what he was supposed to say. "Yea, it's, it's pretty great...". Everyone else at the Slytherin table looked at the two of them while pretending not to.

Draco laughed. "It is, Harry! Really, you'll see". He nodded reassuringly and began shovelling food unto his plate.

Harry nodded, not in agreement but just thinking to himself. He couldn't decide what food to get, so he got a little bit of everything. Some part of him felt guilty for having so much food, but he reassured himself that the food was for everyone and took a bigger serving. Around him, everybody started eating and Harry soon had a mouthful of food.

Just as Harry was quite incapable of answering, his mouth completely fulled, Draco began to bombard him with questions.

"So Harry, why did you decide to go for Slytherin? Was it your first choice? I'm glad you didn't listen to all those people saying bad things about our house, it really is the best one. Say, where WERE you on the train, anyway? I didn't see you anywhere, I mean, not that I looked so much".

Harry swallowed and looked at Draco, who seemed like he expected an answer. He was surprised that Draco was being so friendly - it somehow seemed a little unlike him. Harry took a drink and cleared his throat. "Well, uh, Draco... I didn't exactly PICK Slytherin, not exactly, anyway...". Draco looked confused as Harry continued explaining. "I mean, I heard a lot about each of the houses, but I hadn't really decided. It sounded like Hufflepuff was... well, the sort of thing you might get picked on for being part of, you know, so I really just said 'not Hufflepuff'. And somehow, that landed me in Slytherin... weird, isn't it?", Harry asked.

Draco nodded, digesting the information. "That does happen sometimes, Harry, but that's alright. Me, I always knew I'd be in Slytherin. I'm a Malfoy! We belong in Slytherin, everyone knows that". A few of the students in the general vicinity of Harry and Draco shot them. "We are one of the most ambitious noble families, Harry... You've done well to choose us for your allies!". More small, curious looks from Harry's new classmates.

Harry felt uncomfortable with something about the situation, and thought quickly. "Well, uh, Draco, no offence, but I don't think I'd exactly call us... allies. This isn't a war, anyway, and I mean, you're very nice and everything, but... I don't really know you".

Draco only allowed his facade to falter for a second, showing a hint of a sneer before he put his cheerful face back on. "That's alright Harry, we'll talk about it some other time. We're just all glad to have you in Slytherin house". As Draco said that, at least 10 different people within ear-shot turned to Harry and lifted their drinks, saluting him. Harry felt weird having people pay attention to him like that, shy and embarrassed. But it was, at least, better than being picked on and Harry smiled, timidly returning the gesture.

As Harry set down his cup, an older boy from across the table talked to him. "It really is a very pleasant surprise to see you here, Potter. Everyone expected you to wind up in Gryffindor, or Ravenclaw, or, well, anything but Slytherin". The brown-haired boy reached across the table and shook his hand, smiling. "I'm Miles Bletchley. I'm the current keeper for Slytherin!", he states proudly.

Harry wanted to just let it go, but knew he would be called on it sooner or later if he pretended to know what he was talking about. He tried to talk quietly to avoid too many people hearing his question, but failed as many people near him simply stopped talking as he asked. "Uhm, what's a keeper?".

It soon proved impossible to stop people talking about Quidditch and Harry resigned himself to just eating his meal and listening.

Harry finished his dessert while a butch-looking girl named Millicent Bulstrode argued with a boy named Blaise Zabini about which seeker was the best one England had ever had. Harry had long since tuned out the conversation and had by now resigned himself to watching the great hall and trying to memorize faces. There were so many people here. Harry had been sorted into Slytherin while Hermione had gone to Ravenclaw. Oh, and Ron had gone to Gryffindor. Harry would never admit it, but he still didn't fully understand what the point of the houses were. Merlin had been a Slytherin, though, and as far as Harry could tell Merlin was just about the most powerful wizard anyone remembered. Good enough for him.

At the same time Harry noticed the food had disappeared, he looked up at the head table where everyone else were looking. As he looked over the teachers sitting at the table he was unsettled to discover that one teacher, a man with greasy black hair, a hooked nose sallow skin was staring at him. Directly at him.

Harry dropped his gaze and, to his luck, Headmaster Dumbledore chose that moment to stand up, the sound of him clearing his throat once again perfectly audible throughout the entire great chamber. There was perfect silent as the ancient-looking wizard started to speak.

"Ahern - just a few more words now that we are all fed and watered. I have a few start-of-term notices to give you. First-years should note that the forest on the grounds is forbidden to all pupils. A few of our older students would do well to remember that as well".

Harry looked to where Dumbledore's gaze now rested and saw that the Headmaster was looking at Ron's elder twin brothers.

"I have been asked by Mr. Filch, the caretaker, to remind you that no magic should be used between classes in the corridors. Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of the term. Anyone interested in playing for their house teams shot contact Madam Hooch".

"Finally, I would like to welcome a new member of our staff". Dumbledore turned to look at a small, mousy woman with bushy brown hair, somehow reminding him of Hermione.

Dumbledore's voice was remarkably solemn as he spoke. "This is Professor Shura, who will be teaching defence against the dark arts. She has decided to give up her work at the Muscowian Security Corps and ask for refuge in magical Britain". Students throughout the great hall got restless in their seats and begin to whispering at the news, before Dumbledore raised a hand to silence them. "I understand that there are many rumours about the Muscowian Security Corps. Some of them are true, but most of them are not. While she is here, you will give her the utmost respect".

Dumbledore smiled and gestured to another teacher, a nondescript-looking man who was prematurely bald for his age. "I am also pleased to announce that Professor Quirrel has returned from his sabbatical to teach muggle studies". No whispering was heard in response to that announcement.

Dumbledore smiled, on the edge of a full grin. "And now, before we all go off to bed, let us sing the school song!". After a few, awkward minutes the song was finished, none of the teachers except Dumbledore himself and Hagrid looking particularly pleased with the situation. "Ah, music!" Dumbledore said, wiping his eyes. "A magic beyond all we do here! And now, bedtime. Off you trot!".

The Slytherin first-years followed a prefect named Mervin Wynch through the still-whispering crowds, out of the great hall and into the bowels of the school. The Slytherin common rooms, it seemed, were in the Hogwarts dungeons, below the water. Harry was exhausted but still tried to take in his surroundings, especially fascinated by the moving, talking paintings. The road to the common rooms felt like it should have been longer, but following a number of corridors and small staircases, the prefect stopped, facing a brick wall.

Harry was no longer surprised when, after the prefect had loudly spoken the password ("Ad Altiora Tendo", apparently) and made them all memorize it, the wall simply melted away and revealed the Slytherin common room. Harry was pleasantly surprised to find that it had a very relaxed atmosphere, with a number of nooks and crannies to study or talk in. The entire dungeon was somehow well-lit in spite of seeming dark, and a series of small windows apparently leading into the lake. Harry shuddered a little as he saw something move in the water but was soon distracted by the prefect leading him and the other boys towards their section of the dungeon, an older girl, presumably a prefect as well, leading the girls. A small, floating light led Harry to his bunk, which he noticed was in the same room as Draco's and a few other boys, including Zabini, the boy who had passionately talked Quidditch earlier. Some of the boys seemed like they wanted to talk, but Harry was too tired to deal with any more that day and climbed into his bed. He was asleep almost as soon as he hit the pillow.

All through the night he had strange, restless dreams about dark rooms and whispered voices.


	12. Chapter 12

Harry woke up on his first day of school - REAL, school - and was anxious like he didn't remember being in a long time. This was really it. He had come to Hogwarts, been sorted into a house, and now he was supposed to pick up his wand and go to class. He was famous in the magical world, apparently. People hadn't picked on him here. They had tried to make friends with him.

Like he was somebody. Harry sat up and smiled, rubbing his face. Thing could be different, from now on. There wasn't any reason he should be afraid.

Harry got dressed, and got out of bed. He wasn't as good as Hermione, but he would study. He already had some idea of how to defend himself and his very first class at Hogwarts was Defence against the dark arts. Looking at himself in the mirror, he found that he liked the black ropes. They projected power, somehow. Like he was a new person. He straightened his collar and placed his hand on the wand that was resting in his belt. It was good to be a wizard.

Harry was interrupted by Draco putting a hand on his shoulder. "Finally up, huh, Potter? Class is in 30 minutes. My dad told me to pay extra attention today. To have a TEACHER from Security Corps! They're the most ruthless killers in the Eastern wizarding world". Draco said it so proudly, but harry shuddered. "Wait, what? They're killers? How do you mean",

Draco laughed. "I forget you were raised by muggles, Potter. Of course they're killers. They maintain the power of the Muscowian Council. Don't you think people oppose the Empire's policies?".

Harry thought fast. He had read about this. The Muscowian Empire controlled all of what was called Eastern Europe to muggles and were in conflict with the wizards of Europe. Harry had read that it was a despotic regime but hadn't thought much about it. He asked Draco timidly. "Who do they kill to do that?".

Draco smiled, and Harry was suddenly much less certain he liked this boy at all. "Well anyone who opposes the Empire, generally. Rumour-mongers, dissidents, dabblers, muggle-lovers, that sort of thing". Harry felt sick but Draco continued. "Bloody pity it's not like that here, huh, Potter? We'd get rid of all those mud-bloods and traitors in our ranks and make Britain STRONG again!". Draco now sounded like he was parroting his father and Harry couldn't stand another moment of it.

"Enough, Draco. That's Rubbish. All of that sounds awful".

Draco sneered at him. "Look, Potter, this isn't the muggle world. There's a WAR going on, don't you know? Our way of life is fading. The muggles are arming themselves and becoming stronger by the moment. Do you really think muggles can rule better than wizards?".

Harry thought of the Dursley's and the adults at his school and supposed they couldn't. "Still", he objected. "I'm sure wizards make mistake too. Besides, all of that seems so... unnecessary, you know? Don't you have magic?".

Draco sneered again but seemed to almost enjoy the back-and-forth. "If you are powerful enough to subdue to the muggle world, Potter, then do it. But no living wizard can do that. The muggles are ALREADY out of control. Magical knowledge is being lost. If we don't act now, wizardry itself will die out. You'll have to live like a muggle again, Potter".

Harry frowned. "You're crazy. Muggles aren't... I mean. They're not ALL bad. A few of them tried to be friends with me until Dudley scared them off".

Draco's eyes narrowed. "Who's Dudley?" and Harry barely stifled a cringe. "Just my stupid cousin. The worst kind of muggle". Harry smiled, enjoying calling Dudley a muggle but Draco just nodded solemnly. "I see. It's a pity your father had to go marrying a mud-blood. The Potters were a pure-blood family for so long". Harry frowned. "Who are you calling a mud-blood? What does that even mean?"

Draco smiled, but stepped cautiously. "It just means a wizard who isn't born of wizarding parents. There are many reasons they're not like us, you know. You are exposed to magic right at the beginning of your life. Spontaneous magic has probably been innate to you as a child. Muggleborns into come into magic once they are older and it gives them less control. They are more likely to exhibit dangerous, spontaneous magic. And they are upsetting our social structures".

Harry sighed. "I don't really want to talk politics, Draco. I think that's all a load of garbage, but I really just want to go to class". Draco huffed. "it's not garbage! It's the truth! My father will expose the ministry's corruption, and honour of wizards will be restored".

Harry shrugged. "Yea I guess. Lets just get to breakfast". Harry felt a little annoyed by Draco, but the boy WAS kind of nice when he wasn't trying to act all high and mighty. "Have you ever been in a magic duel, Draco?", Harry asked, eager to change the subject as both boys picked up their books and headed for the great hall.

Draco smiled. "Once, actually. With another kid. It was Blaise, actually, you talked to him during dinner last night, remember?". Harry nodded, internally groaning as he thought of all the Quidditch-talk. "He was being a pest when our fathers put us together during a business meeting, and I challenged him to a duel. Won, too". He looked cocky. "In fact, I'm probably the best duellist in our year. Nobody gets training anywhere near the Malfoy family". Harry furrowed his brow. Draco really was full of himself. In a way, he reminded harry of Dudley, but he was sharper, somehow. And not nearly as unpleasant to be around.

He had to admit, though. Winning a magic duel sounded pretty cool. The boy was so self-confident. Assertive. Everything that Harry was not.

They both arrived in the class-room and saw that it was a big lecture hall, rows of table aligned up throughout the room. A lot of children had already arrived, and harry think at least a third of the 1'st years, at least 50 people, were in the hall at the moment. There were kids there from the other houses and Harry smiled as he saw Hermione, sitting next to her.

She only look up at him briefly, scribbling desperately in a positively huge notebook. She nods and says "Hey Harry" before going back to her notes. Harry felt awkward and set up his own notebook, looking up at the podium. He was a little shocked that he hadn't seen her walking in, but right next to the desk at the podium stood the small mousy woman introduced as Shura. The woman Draco had called a killer. Harry gasped as he noticed that her eyes turned to focus right on him. He felt a shooting pain in his scar and looked down, a hand shooting to it.

Hermione immediately put down her quill and gave Harry a concerned look. "Are you okay, Harry?". He nods. "Yea, just a bit of a headache. I'm fine. How are your new classmates?". She shrugs. "Not bad, actually. Some of them are pretty smart, too. Not as smart as me, of course", she said matter-of-factly and returns to her book. What a strange girl, that one.

Harry's train of thoughts was once again interrupted, this time by the chiming of a small silver bell. The last students had sat down and the lights in the hall dimmed, excepting the stage on which professor Shura stood. As she spoke, her voice was as clearly audible as Headmaster Dumbledore's had been last night.

"Welcome to defence against the dark arts. I am professor Shura". She paced the stage, her voice strangely devoid of any recognizable accent at all. "I am sure you all have many questions about my work in the Muscowian security corps. Those of you with magical parents, at least. I am here to teach, not to talk about my past in Muscowia. I will not tolerate any allusions to my past, nick-names, distractions or other useless activities in my class. You will either sit down and listen, or you will not attend my class. Is that clear with everyone?".

She looked at the crowd which was silent and awestruck. She raised her voice. "I SAID, is that clear to everyone?". A few mumbles were heard and she shakes her head. "That won't do. Reply so I can hear you. AGAIN!". She shouts, and most students, hearing her like she was standing in front of them, replied much faster this time. "Yes", "Yea", and various other mumbled responses. She nods. "Don't treat this like a normal class. This is not an academic lecture. It will not help you to take notes". Harry put down his quill but Hermione looked almost like she was going to explode.

The professor continued. "This is a class of self-defence. You will learn how to defend yourself against magic used on you with hostile intent. Can I have a volunteer for a demonstration?". Hermione immediately shoots up her hand and Shura nodded to her. "Very well. Stand up, student. What is your name?". As Hermione stood up, Harry felt a little bit uneasy. Hermione, though, happily replied. "Hermione Granger, Professor Shura". If Harry had looked, he would have seen Draco scowling.

Professor Shura nodded. "Come down here, miss Granger. Stand opposite me on the podium". Hermione looked like she regretted her decision to stand up for a second but hardened her resolve and walk down with her chin held high. She smiled up at Harry before looking nervously at the professor. Professor Shura looked her over and drew her wand, pointing it right in Hermione 's face. Hermione froze in place and the professor shook her head. "First mistake. If somebody starts to draw their wand, draw your own. If you hesitate, you will be at their mercy. If you let your enemy draw their wand first, you will die without being able to defend yourself". Professor Shura looked at Hermione dispassionately. "Tell me, Granger. What would you do? If I put a wand in your face and started to speak an incantation that would kill you?".

Hermione looked like she had no idea how to deal with the situation. Was this normal at Hogwarts? This WAS their first day, after all... She snapped out of it and started to think furiously. "I'd draw my wand?", she tries cautiously but hardly finishes before the professor cuts her off. "No, no, NO. You don't have time to draw your wand. What else?"

Hermione gulped and now started to look genuinely uncomfortable. "I... would kick you in the shin?". Professor Shura smiled. "Better, but not good. But you have the right idea, even if that was a stupid idea and would have gotten you killed". Hermione starts to look dejected but is cut off. "What's your house, Granger?". As Hermione replies Professor Shura nods. "Very well. 5 points to Ravenclaw". She turned to the crowd of students. "Well? Does anyone else have a GOOD idea?".

Silence in the room before Draco Malfoy slowly raised his hand. The professor looked at him. "Stand up. What's your name and your house? Tell us your idea". Draco smiled self-confidently. "I'm Draco Malfoy, Professor Shura. Son of Lucius Malfoy". He said as if expecting a reaction but the professor watched him dispassionately. "Uhm...". A little insecure, he starts again. "My father told me that this is the time to surrender. If someone has you at wand-point, you stop fighting if they're dangerous enough. If you want to live anyway".

Professor Shura look back to the crowd. "Sit down. It's a bad idea, too. Your enemy could be out to kill you and your hesitation can cast you your life. For a Slytherin, I thought you would know better than that". Draco's ears go very red and he almost speaks up, and Harry heard a loud, mocking fake laugh from the classroom before it was silence by a glance from the professor. Looking, Harry saw that it was Ron who had laughed. "Anyone else?". There was silence for a while and Harry slowly raised his hand, thinking of the time Dudley had thought it would be funny to sharped a stick and poke it into Harry's face.

Professor Shura just looked at him and nodded, and Harry stood up wondering if it had been a good idea to speak up. "I, uhm, well what I would do is-", but he didn't manage to finish before the professor sighed loudly and cut him off. "State your name and house, student. I don't know any of you". Harry nodded, now certain this had been a mistake but tried to keep the insecurity out of his voice. "Harry Potter, professor". He ignored the mumbling that started immediately. "Slytherin. And here's my idea... I'd move my head to the side and try to grab it. Point it away from my face before it can be used. That, that works with something sharp, anyway...".

Professor Shura looked at him silently for a few seconds. "Very good, Mister Potter. 10 points to Slytherin. Sit down". He did, feeling very sheepish and the professor spoke up again. "That was the only good idea we've had so far. Another would be to dodge, to use another weapon, to break the wand, to use wandless magic, or to disapparate".

The class seemed remarkably unsettled by now but the professor turned back to Hermione, who seemed perfectly happy to have been ignored. "Do you think you can defend yourself, Miss Granger? Against a dark wizard?". As Hermione shook her head, the professor nodded and continued. "How about one of your class-mates?". Hermione seemed unsure for a second but steels herself again and nods with a small smile. "Probably". The professor looks to the crowd. "Pick one, then". As Hermione stands in place, not quite understanding, the professor shook her head slowly. "PICK one of your classmates. Right now. Say a name". Without delay, Hermione said "Harry Potter" and blushed. The professor simply indicated for Harry to walk down and he felt like he could die as he walked down, every eye in the lecture hall fixed on him. Professor Shura places them a distance apart from each other on a clear area on the podium.

Harry felt like something was about to go horribly wrong but just looked at Hermione and smiled. The professor stood between them. "This example is simple. The two of you will fight. There are no rules. The one who takes the wand of the other from them has won. Do not break wands". She stands out of the way and as they both look at her stunned she raises her wand. "You have no chance to actually hurt each other. I will intervene". She points her wand at Harry and, before he can react or even touch his wand, casts a spell on him. He feels slightly warmer but no different otherwise and then Professor Shura uses the same spell on Hermione, who flinches even having seen it coming. "Go on, then".

Harry swallowed and looked back at Hermione. What was he supposed to do? Before he finished thinking, Hermione pointed her wand at him and cried "Expelliarmus!". Harry only barely dodged, remembering the spell from his text-book even if he hadn't practiced it. In fact, he couldn't think of any useful spells at all and settled for just jumping out of the way of her next disarming spell, crashing to the floor as he stumbles after dodging. Hermione hesitated for only a second as Harry hit the floor, and that was all the chance he needed. He pointed his wand at her face and cast his own spell. "Vermilious!". Red and orange sparks shot from his wand and Harry instantly regretted his decision as Hermione shrieked, closing her eyes and dropping her wand.

He rushed to his feet but didn't manage to do anything before professor Shura stepped in between them and waved her wand once without speaking a word Harry could hear. Hermione was quiet and as the professor stepped to the side he saw that her face was smooth and unharmed. She looked upset but not hurt and gave Harry a sulky look as Shura turned to Harry, looking at him appraisingly. "Interesting. It seems that Harry Potter has combat reflexes. Pathetic, childish reflexes, but reflexes nevertheless". She smiles for the first time since Harry has seen her. "10 points to Slytherin, Potter. Go take a seat". As Hermione followed him, both kids hoping to slink into their seats unnoticed, the professor stopped Hermione by clearing her throat.

As Hermione turned to ackwnowledge the professor, Shura smiled again. "Well done to you as well, Granger. Students are not ordinarily able to cast a disarming spell on their first day. 5 points to Ravenclaw". Hermione blushed furiously and nodded scurrying back to her seat and hiding her face in her note-book, pretending to take notes as the lecture started again. First, Professor Shura gave them all a talk on why she had felt that was necessary. She explained that defence against the dark arts was about learning to defend yourself, not about memorizing spells or lists of fact.

As they finally closed up their notebooks and went to their next class, transfiguration, Harry felt tense around Hermione. "No hard feelings, right?". Hermione gave him a look that made him shudder and as she spoke he could not determine if she was serious, joking or both. "Oh, there are ONLY hard feelings, Potter. I don't enjoy loosing. You, of all people, should know that by now". Before Harry could say a thing, she slipped away from him and left him to wonder what girls meant when they said things. 


	13. Chapter 13

Harry and Draco had arrived in the transfiguration classroom together, since Harry didn't really know anyone else in Hogwarts yet. Wherever Harry went, somebody stopped and said, "Oh my god, it's Harry Potter!". He really did hope that would stop after his first few days. The first-grade Slytherins and Ravenclaws were to share classes in transfiguration as well as defence. The students settled into their seats, and soon, it was time for class to begin. Harry sat down next to Hermione, who demonstratively avoided looking at him. He saw no sign of McGonagall, who was supposed to be his transfiguration teacher. A tabby cat was sitting near to McGonagall's desk. It looked an awful lot like a cat Harry had seen somewhere before, and suddenly, Harry realized that the cat WAS McGonagall, watching her students from a vantage point where most of them wouldn't know it was her.

The cat gave Harry a knowing glance, and he thought it best to keep what he knew to himself. Soon, the last two students staggered in, one of which Harry recognized as Millicent Bulstrode and one he didn't recognize at all. As they stepped into the classroom Millicent said, very loudly, "Phew, lucky old McGonagall isn't here yet. Should have figured a Gryffindor wouldn't be punctual, huh? Nothing to worry about at all". Exactly as she finished her speaking, the cat seemed to pulse briefly before rapidly shifting into McGonagall in her usual, dispassionate demeanour. "If you would please be seated, honourably descendants of Slytherin, then perhaps we could begin our class". The girls both turned red at and quickly sat down in the back.

A few giggles were heard but were quickly silenced by a gesture of her hand. "How many of you have ever experimented with transfiguration?". The classroom went dead silent as Hermione shot up her hand.

"Yes, Miss Granger?". McGonagall sounded tired as she quizzed, and Harry secretly sympathized with his teacher. Hermione was a nice enough girl, but she did talk an awful lot, and to be honest, was kind of a show-off. Still, Harry had enjoyed trying to upstage her, had enjoyed their competition. She had bested him in their first contact, but during Defence class, Harry had come out victorious in front of the entire classroom.

"Professor McGonagall, to experiment with transfiguration outside of Hogwarts is unsafe! Especially for underage wizards!". Hermione looked proud of her own answer.

McGonagall looked to the rest of the class and continued. "Have any of you here ever experimented with transfiguration? Not you, Miss Granger". A dead silence fell. "You all think yourselves witches and wizards. And yet, you don't know even the fundamentals of transfiguration". She turns her desk into solid gold, then into a doorway, then into a silver chalice before reforming the table, all in less than 10 seconds with a strange, fluid shifting of the furniture.

"You think you know anything about transfiguration?". She raised her wand and flicked it, and a small dome of light hovered in the room. "Even air can be transformed into dangerous magical items. This is powdered sunlight, which is powerful against Vampires, but...". She flicks her hands and throws it into the corner, lighting her books and the entire wall on flame. Many of the students gasped, but she quickly flicked her wand to put out the fires. "My books and my furniture does not burn, because it is transfigured ice. It can only melt". With a closer look, Harry could see that the shelves hand... run, like she had said, as if they were melted. She flicked her wand and their repaired themselves.

"Transfiguration is powerful magic. In fact, it was transfiguration that allowed Dumbledore to best Grindelwald. Today, there are some people who experiment with transfiguration, and who are successful". She lowers her voice, until it is again entirely calm and dignified. "And I am not counted amongst them. Today, Dumbledore is the only wizard in Magical Britain who openly experiments with transfiguration and reports new discoveries. He is matched by only 4 such other individuals in the East and by only one other in the West. To experiment with transfiguration, even casually, is not something that is safe for any witch or wizard of anything short of legendary capacity. Transfiguration is different from other topics, in that obedience of formula is very important. You will find that charms are far easier to cast wandless, for examples."

Her voice is again sharp. "So! Which of you have experimented with transfiguration?". Nobody speaks up. "None of you better try any of that while you are my students. At Hogwarts, we have a very low amount of students who die during transfiguration courses, and I aim to keep it that way".

Draco raised his hand. The teacher didn't turn to look at him but still replied. "Yes, Mister Draco?". The blonde boy was silent for a few seconds, seeming to gather his courage, before asking. "Are there ways to transfigure yourself to be immortal? I mean, if you can change books so they melt instead of burn, can't a wizard change himself so he will only dent instead of bleed if he is injured? Or so he's fireproof?".

McGonagall gave Draco only one look, but it was enough to silence him. "Since Mister Malfoy follows his fathers orders to bring up the subject, we will talk about this now instead of at another, more appropriate time. Harry Potter, this concerns you to some degree". Harry suddenly felt very, very singled out as everyone turned their heads to stare at him. "Me?".

McGonagall ignored him and continued. "The Dark Lord was amongst the most accomplished masters of Transfiguration that history has known. It is known to many of you, if not those muggle-born, that he used transfiguration to alter his own body, managing to increase his own powers and make himself almost indestructible. In the end, it was only his own killing curse that was strong enough to break though the improvements he had made". She turned and looked out at court-yard from the great windows at the back of the transfiguration classroom.

"Of course, the Dark Lord took his rituals too far, and he let it blind him and corrupt his mind. By the end he had become little more than an animal, who saw every wizard or witch who didn't obey him as nothing more than a pawn to be used. It's why the Death Eaters disbanded the night he was destroyed. All those with him were opportunistic, murdering thugs, who wanted nothing more than a strong leader, and to see the world burn." She turned back. "Or so they say, anyway. Sometimes, the truth is complicated. But this IS the truth". She flicked her wand and summoned a number of floating billboards with simple slogans. "You will copy all these rules BY HAND at least 20 times. Yes, I have spells to check whether or not you have an auto-writing quill. Get to it!".

The rest of the class was spend remembering safety rules for transfiguration. The slogans ended up annoyingly stuck in Harry's head, which was a pain even if he supposed it was the point. "Don't transfigure gold". "Don't expose anything transfigured to fire". "Don't transfigure bridges". That one in particular had seemed weird to Harry. He packed up his books and returned to the dormitories. Hermione still seemed intent not to talk to him and he decided to ignore her for tonight. As soon as he had put his books back in his trunk, he hid in the bathroom and washed up, wanting to head to dinner without staying too long in the dormitories. He was still a little shy of sharing a room with the other Slytherins and not very eager to talk with anyone after a long day.

As soon as he left the bathroom, he ran into Draco whose eyes immediately lit up like a firecracker. "Hi, Potter! So, what did you think of McGonagall?". The strange question caught him off guard. "McGonagall? She's... alright, I suppose, why?". Draco put on a sly smile. "Oh don't tell me you didn't notice Potter, you ARE Slytherin, after all! She was trying to insult my family because she has political disagreements with my father". Harry furrowed his brow. "I didn't hear anything like that, Draco. I just heard her talking about safety and that stuff". He was really thinking of Voldemort, though, and Draco's looked as if he suspected as much. "Look, Potter, I hope you don't think my father really did support the Dark Lord. You have to understand that we're a powerful, traditional noble family. It made sense for him to target Father with Imperio".

Harry did not follow that at all. "Sure? I never really thought about it". Draco now looked cautious. "Potter... McGonagall has been claiming for years that my Father was not really under the influence of Imperio at all, but rather that he was a death-eater of his own choice". To Harry, Draco looked almost a bit sad. "Nobody believes us anymore, you know, when we say we aren't Death Eaters. Dumbledore and McGonagall's smear campaign has damaged my father politically. He is, of course, a very prominent traditionalist, and since the Dark Lord tried to work through traditionalist nobility we were targeted. You believe me when I say father wasn't implicated, don't you Potter?".

Now Harry understood what was going on. He was being pressured to say something, to agree with Draco's viewpoint. He didn't like being pressured. "I have no opinion, Draco. I don't really know anything yet, remember? I'm not going to believe McGonagall, but I'm not ready to just take your word for it, either. I really don't care much. He was vanquished, wasn't he? If the war was still going on, maybe I would care, but for now it's none of my business".

To Harry's surprise, Draco seemed pleased with that. "I suppose that's all I could ask from a fellow Slytherin. Sorry to try and manipulate you, Potter. It is nice not to talk about all this stuff sometime". Harry smiled. "So, did you figure out that it was really McGonagall and not a cat?". Draco didn't sound confident as he quickly replied. "Of course! I would recognize her animagus form anywhere". Harry laughed but didn't contradict him. "I'd like to learn that some day. Hey, is your father an animagus?". Now Draco was the one who looked like he felt pressured. "I can't talk about that stuff, Potter. It's, you know, classified. I'm not supposed to".

Harry felt like he understood Draco a little better, even if the boy was annoyingly pushy. "Sure. Do you want to go to dinner? I was pretty hungry, actually, and I know it all starts soon". Draco waved him off and said he would meet him later, after he had finished putting away his school supplies. Harry gladly took the chance to go on his own, and soon tuned out the stares and whispers as he walked through the school. Just before he arrived in the great hall, Hermione intercepted him and immediately started talking.

"So!". Her voice was excited, and it sounded like she was positively bursting to speak her mind. "What are you doing after dinner? Because I will be in the library, studying the defence text-books from next year. I would HATE to see you fall behind any worse than you already are". Harry had just about had enough of this. "Well I'll be in the library too, and you'll see, next time we duel I will win, too. And when we really start transfiguration, I'll out-do you! Those don't rely on book talent as much, you heard the Professors. I'll best you!". Not many students had arrived yet, and it was almost 10 minutes until dinner, so Harry and Hermione ended up sitting at the end of the Slytherin table that usually went unoccupied as everyone clustered near the front. In his few meals here Harry had noticed that Slytherin house was the only one to do that, with the other houses mixing more freely.

Harry thought of Draco as he sat down and thought of earlier. Slytherin couldn't really be evil, could it? He didn't got much of a chance to finish his thought, though, since Hermione started talking again. "You DO know I won't give up so easily... right, Harry?". Her tone was sweet, but mockingly venomous instead of friendly. Harry laughed, recognizing that she was really enjoying their competition. "Oh, I know. It's just that I'll win again, anyway, because I'm more awesome than you". Hermione looked as it she took this very personally and touched her wand briefly. "After reading tonight, Potter, it's on! Transfiguration is an intensely theoretical subject, so you KNOW I'm going to beat you. You can't read NEARLY as fast as me, and you hardly have a chance of matching my memorization skills. So...". She blinks her eyes as innocently as she can. "What are you going to do, kick the books, too? I think the saying goes hit the books, not kick then. You certainly shouldn't hex them in the face".

Harry suddenly felt uncomfortable. He hadn't wanted to hex her, he had just acted as a spur of the moment. And she had come out unharmed, right? Like the professor had said she would. "Look, Hermione...". He tried to explain and as he did, he noticed the tables starting to fill up. The migration from the dormitories had started in earnest, and as he tried to get Hermione to understand that it wasn't his fault for trying to win the food appeared and the tables quickly filled with the last of the stragglers.

Harry shovelled food on his disk and when he looked to his side he was shocked to see that many of his classmates had moved further away from him and demonstratively seemed to freeze out him and Hermione. She smiled and look at him like nothing was wrong. "Oh, don't mind them, Harry. I know what this is about. I'm a mud-blood, and I've sat down at their table. Mud bloods don't go to Slytherin... did you know that, Harry? It's part of the selection spell". He put food in her mouth and Harry looked at his class mates. That couldn't really be true, could it? "But... Wouldn't that be racist?", he tried. Hermione laughed and this time she didn't manage to hide her bitterness. "That's one way of putting it. They see me as less of a witch because my parents are muggles. But I love my parents. Can you imagine how that feels, to be told that you are locked out of one fourth of the school because of your blood?".

Harry felt very put on the spot again. Why did this keep happening to him? He had just wanted to eat dinner, and just wanted to sit down with Hermione, whose constant challenges had made him eager to prove himself at the school. "I don't think all Slytherin think like that, Hermione... Look". He looks at the group. "The ones who are avoiding looking at us are sitting at the edges. They moved there and then pushed people towards the centre. Nobody has stood up for us, but... That never really happens anyway". Harry felt like those words should trouble him, but they didn't.

"Do you know why I'm excited to learn so much about magic, Hermione?". She looked at him like she expected a trick question. "Because learning is fun". She said that without any hint of sarcasm or delay and Harry was impressed by just how stubborn this girl was. "Well in part, but I want to be able to... stand up for myself, too. Do something, be somebody, even if I couldn't do that in the muggle world. Same for you, Hermione. If you become a powerful witch, people won't make fun of you anymore". Something in Harry's tone seemed to unsettle Hermione. "Please don't talk like that, Harry. I don't care what anyone thinks of me as long as they don't hurt anyone. But it's wrong to use magic to get back at people! It should only be used in self defence".

Harry didn't see any hope of explaining things to Hermione. He looked awkwardly as his classmates and ate in silence.

Once he and Hermione got to the library it took him a while to relax, but as soon as he allowed himself to look around, he fell irrevocably in love with the Hogwarts library. What must be thousands of books were spread through the towering room, a great number of them flying around far above he shelves. Little statues were enchanted and placed in front of every rack, who helped visitors find books and directed them to other sections. He soon found they would also keep a list for you, personally, of titles you found interesting and wanted to read in the future. While Hermione picked up the transfiguration textbook and continued to memorize the foundational teachings, Harry looked through the books in the isle of the library where the manic, brown-haired girl had sat down.

This rack mostly had more advanced text-books and Harry skipped a number of scary-looking tomes on things like numerology, potions and various topics of philosophy and theory. Finally, he came across a book that caught his eye. It was found in subtle red leather which seemed almost warm as he pulled it from the shelf and looked at the cover. "A field guide to practical magic". The book seemed to provide a sort of crash course in a number of different topics, skipping detail on any one and leaving the reader with simple illustrations and practical examples.

Harry sat down and he and Hermione both read in silence until it was time for bed, excepting Hermione switching to another book just before closing. Harry could still see her self-satisfied look as he sat up that night, reading by the light of his wand.


	14. Chapter 14

It was the third day at Hogwarts, and Harry was still there. He was still a wizard. He didn't know a lot of spells, granted, and as far as he had read children could not wield more powerful magic without exhausting themselves. But he was at Hogwarts, and he was learning. He was becoming... a wizard. A warlock, even, a nickname for Slytherin, the house he had been sorted into.

To Harry, being a Warlock meant being safe. It meant being powerful. It meant, most importantly of all, being somebody. Harry Potter, the boy who lived. It wasn't... nice to be known for the death of his parents, but it was still better than being lonely and alone. He hadn't really made any friends yet, but he seemed to generally be getting along with people. He was sure he had at least not made any enemies.

Harry finished his breakfast and the food disappeared. Draco walked past him, having stood up exactly as it was time for breakfast to end. "Coming, Potter?" he queried with a smirk. Harry couldn't find out exactly what it was, but there was something about the boy he didn't like. He reminded Harry a little bit of Dudley, but unlike his cousin Draco also seemed cunning, high-status, friendly and at least somewhat unhappy with the role his father had dictated for him. Harry had seen Draco with some other students. Being the son of Lucius Malfoy meant fame, too, and Draco, too, had experienced people whispering about him in the hall-ways.

Whispering that his father was a murdered... and that he still owed his loyalty to Lord Voldemort. Harry wondered if any of all that was true. Either way, Draco himself certainly wasn't a murderer. He had said a couple of rude things to kids from families that were somehow "rivals" of the Malfoys, but Harry hadn't seen him openly harass any kids.

To be fair, it was only day 3, but right now that didn't matter to Harry. Harry desperately wanted to make friends and Draco desperately needed one. Harry had been raised in squalor as opposed to Draco's luxury and regimentation, but it was quickly obvious from listening to Draco that things weren't perfect at home. He always sounded timid when he spoke of his father, and it seemed like he preferred living at Hogwarts. To Harry, it felt like Draco might be a little screwed up, but that wouldn't stop the two of them from being friends.

As they walked to their next class, the first which was only for Slytherins, the two boys talked about seemingly nothing at all, but somehow still got to know each other better. The took out their note-books and sat down at the same table. They potions class-roomed looked extremely fascinating to Harry. A number of small cauldrons were simmering, and the smells which drifted through the air were unlike any he had smelled before. Some seemed impossibly sweet, or unbearably bitter, while others were faint in a way that evoked no other smell.

Harry was excited for potions and read the introduction to his potions text, "Magical drafts and potions", by an "Arsenius Jigger". As his teacher silently walked into the class-room, Harry was reading the final part of the introduction.

"So welcome, young ones, to the exciting world of potions-making. Brewing magical drafts and potions is no simple task, but once mastered unlocks magical power beyond that of most mere wizards. The alchemist possesses powers that the scholar of charms lacks, in their ability to strengthen themselves, defend their lairs or even brew luck or stave off death. The power of potions is tremendous - but not to be approached lightly. Potions mishaps kill thousands of wizards across the world every decade. Don't fall victim to 'self-combusting snap-powder'. Those who experiment with potions should ,at least, know warding charms adequate to protect themselves from burns, freezing and the simpler poisons.

The Author,  
Arsenius Jigger"

Just as Harry finished the passage, the hook-nosed teacher with greasy hair spoke up. "Pay attention, Potter. You're not exempt from potions just for being a - celebrity".

Harry quickly closed his book. "Sorry sir". The potions teacher looked at him for a few seconds and turn away. To Harry, it seemed as if professor Snape REALLY didn't like him, but he had no idea why. Draco, sitting next to Harry, looked supremely uncomfortable.

Professor Snape walked away from the table and circled the class-room. He spoke at a whisper but, like professor McGonagall, he had a gift of causing all the students to fall quiet, and it always sounded as if he was talking right next to you. Harry knew it was a spell, but it was still impressive. The teacher talked slowly and softly, almost with melancholy although Harry heard definite hints of spite.

"You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion making", he began. "As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don't expect you will really... understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses... I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death...". For a second the teacher's facade seemed cracked and he composed himself unseen by most students. Harry, however, was well-practised in the ways of hiding pain and saw through the act, even if all he saw was a small sliver of humanity. "If you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I normally have to teach, that is". Now he stood at the head table, and his demeanour seemed less intimidating. "You ARE, Slytherins, after all...". His gaze hovered on Harry, seemingly doubting that Harry belonged to his house.

Harry was starting to get seriously upset with professor Snape. Draco had said only nice things about the teacher, saying that he put on a facade but still strove to help all of his students. Earlier, Harry and Draco had been talking in the dormitory before class, and Draco had expressed an ambition to be the best of his year in potions. Harry, spurred on by his strange friendship with Hermione, immediately, and unthinkingly, challenged Draco to see who would get the highest mark in potions at the end of the year. Draco had looked stunned for an uncomfortably large amount of time before saying "I can't just... reject a challenge like that. Of course I will compete".

Draco had sounded so serious. His look had chilled Harry by how serious and adult it was. Harry wanted to lighten the mood and said, "Hey, if Hermione beats us both it won't matter anyway, right?". At this Draco had just given Harry a look like he had spoken The Forbidden Words and walked away, refusing to acknowledge him again before sitting down next to him in potions with a still smile.

So Harry had come to potions to learn, to be the best of his year, and now it seemed his teacher hated him. Before Harry finished that thought, Snape turned and looked him in the eye. Harry shivered as the his though, of competing with Draco to be best at potions, shuddered its way into his mind. Snake was now standing a little closer and looked at at a column close to Harry as he spoke. "Potter... What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

Smiled, having read the answer in his text-book the night before. "The drought of the living dead, professor?". Replied instantly. "So, you have opened the first chapter. But have you read the introduction? Where would you look if I told you to find a beozar, Potter?". Harry knew this too and now he smirked. "In the potions cabinet if it was urgent, but they are harvested from the stomach of goats".

The teacher spoke after a brief pause. "A point from Slytherin house for your cheek, Potter. A shame. You are the first Slytherin to loose points in my class for 2 years. Lets try again, Potter, shall we? What is the difference between monkshood and wolfs-bane?". Harry didn't know that one. "So. Didn't read the list of ingredients, Potter? The introduction would have made it clear to read that first, and understand which ingredients can be hazardous. Did you actually read the introduction, or just skip to the part you thought I might ask about?".

Harry felt furiously embarrassed - the introduction had, indeed, said to read the ingredients first and memorize the dangerous ones, but Harry had wanted to finish just the introduction before class. But he also felt spited. This teacher wasn't picking on the other students. "I just read the introduction, Sir, but I read ahead in my transfiguration text instead of reading before class. I'm sorry".

Snake looked almost surprised before turning away. "5 points from Slytherin for tardiness, Potter. Potions is not as easy as transfiguration, Potter, nor perceived to be heroic. Perhaps you should focus exclusively on transfiguration. Students who do not read the assigned chapters do not pass potions, and I will quiz you all on this". Harry didn't see anyone being quizzed but kept quiet. Snape turned to Draco. "So, Mister Malfoy. How are you finding Hogwarts?". After a very brief exchange of pleasantries the teacher questioned Harry's classmate. "Perhaps you, Draco, could tell me what the difference between monkshood and wolfs-bane is?". Draco gave Harry a quick but supremely satisfied smirk. "There is none, professor, those are the two other names for aconite".

Snape again started to pace. "Partially correct, Mister Malfoy. 10 points to Slytherin for completing your reading - as described in the introduction. Those are two other names for aconite. But there are many names for this plant, the most important of which is Queen of all poisons. It is, in fact, the most dangerous plant with which we will be working in this class, for once it becomes an ingredient in one of your potions, even a small mistake can make a small whiff of the vapours the last thing you ever smell. This is why we first work to memorize the names of all our of ingredients, as well as their appearance. There will be no deaths in my class. I have held it to a higher standard for too long to let you ingrates ruin Hogwarts's reputation. So, repeat after me: Wolf's bane is also known as monkshood, aconite, devil's helmet...".

The teacher listed a dozen other names for the plant, and forced them all to write down every name. After that, he listed the "Alchemist's prayers" and started to memorize them. They included, "To not let dragon's breath simmer for more than an hour", "to not mix animal hairs into polyjuice potions" and "to not add too much monkshood". The verses were written like a child's prayer, but seemed to be directed at Merlin rather than Jesus. It was clear that the intent was to prevent the most deadly of mistakes. The words seemed to have some power of their own, and soon the rhyme was strangely imprinted on his mind. As he was reciting the verses with the rest of the class, the room seemed to shrink a little around him, and some of the colour left the world. Harry felt... dull. Like he was only barely there. It felt like this had already happened. He looked around, but didn't recognize any the students there. As he looked towards the teacher, reciting those same words, he saw that it was not professor Snape, but rather a brown-haired man wearing a comfortable striped rope. He had an elegant bow-tie around his neck as he recited the verses.

The chanting stopped and Harry was back in the classroom. What had happened? He looked around and saw Snake standing in front of him. His first thought as he looked a the professor was that he hoped he didn't get in trouble for spacing out. The teacher leaned down, and unlike his cool demeanour towards Draco still seemed to be almost snarling. "Recite the Alchemist's prayers, Potter. Now".

Harry did so, fumbling only once but Snape still looked disgusted. "Memorize them adequately before next class, Potter. 2 points will be deducted from Slytherin for your laziness". The class ended and they all filed out. Draco at Harry as if trying to be triumphant, but seeing the dejected look on his new friend's face found himself unable to act the bully. "Come'on, Harry, it'll be okay. He's just a little tough on beginners". Harry fought back the tears and cleared his mind. No. No more crying. No more weakness. He found an steel in his heart he didn't know he had and took a deep breath. "Sure seemed like it was only me he was tough on, though. But I'm not giving up, Draco. I'm still going to win. And when I do, it will be all the sweeter, because I will have to work the hardest for it, even harder than Hermione! But I'll win. You'll see". Harry laughed, mostly at his own new-found confidence and walked away, leaving a stunned Draco to wonder what kind of kid Harry Potter really was.


	15. Chapter 15

Harry had gone straight to the library. He did not intend to be showed up in potions again. He knew that Hermione had potions with the Ravenclaws now, and he wanted to catch up with at least the basic reading for this class. With a sigh he realized it would probably take him quite a while to catch up with Hermione in terms of reading. There must be... something he could to do read more effectively, something magical.

But he didn't know the way. So he caught up in potions as people have always done, and prepared himself in reading for the next two weeks. He memorized the Alchemists prayer and the list of ingredients. He would never again forget the other names of monkshood, and one day it would save his life. Harry spend the rest of his morning reading in the library until Hermione returned just before lunch. He gave her a questioning smile. "Hey, Hermione. How was potions?". And apparently, that was all it took.

Hermione burst into tears and turned around, but only sniffled for a few seconds before she recovered. "Oh, you know it was...". She failed to continue before she turned around and looked at Harry with tear-soaked eyes. "Oh, Harry, it was awful! He didn't even award me any points!". She looked like she wanted a hug but Harry wasn't confident enough to reach out. "Well he deducted a bunch of points from me... and I didn't even do anything! He hates me, for some reason". Hermione first looked like this made her feel better, then like she hated herself. "Well, Harry... It seems like he hates everyone. He was really mean to all of the Ravenclaw girls. And...". She look away. "No, it doesn't matter. How are you, Harry? Ready to go to lunch?"

Harry felt like he should have asked what was bothering Hermione, but didn't want to impose if she had changed her mind on talking about it. So Harry stood up and closed his potions text. After that, they never talked about the Ravenclaw girls bullying Hermione until after the duel. "I'm okay, lets just go to lunch".

They walked as Harry worked to memorized what he had read. Eventually, they sat down for lunch together at the Ravenclaw table. Harry had just managed to fill his plate and just as Hermione looked like she was going to say something, having gotten her own food, as a hand came down on his shoulder.

Harry didn't manage to turn around before he was pulled up by a brawny, heavy-looking boy. "Get up, Potter!". Harry winched and stood up. He recognized this bully. That was Mervin Wynch, one of the two prefects who were in charge of the Slytherin firsties. Harry instinctively thought to run, but remembered there were many students around him. He thought to go for his wand, but wouldn't have a chance to fight a much older boy.

The prefect spoke. "What are you doing, Potter? Isn't it bad enough you allow a mud-blood to sit down next to you, as if she was a guest of our house? Do you insist on insulting the traditions of Slytherin when you go so far as to leave your own house for her?". He didn't sound as angry, as Harry would have expected, but more... triumphant. Harry touched his wand unconsciously. "I'm not betraying Slytherin! We were just going to talk about class and homework over lunch". But there had been more to it than that... that word, again. Mud-blood. Harry vaguely remembered it being a slur against muggleborns and felt very uncomfortable with him calling Hermione that.

The prefect continues, seemingly unaware that conversation had ceased at the Ravenclaw table and the Hufflepuff one next to that. "Anyone who fraternizes with a little show-off mud-blood isn't just leaving Slytherin, they're betraying our traditions, Potter. Salazar Slytherin never allowed mud-bloods into his house. He only allowed half-bloods, like you I might add, if their fathers were from a noble line. But her? She shouldn't even be in this school, let alone associate with Slytherins or attend the same classes! At least you had the decency to show her up in defence, but this really has to stop Potter.".

Harry cringed, more at the prospect of his and Hermione's next contest than at anything else as he imagined how furiously determined the stubborn girl would be by now. But now he was getting upset, too. "Look... She's my friend, and we're just studying for potions. Why don't you leave her alone?". Before Harry could say anything more to her defence, Hermione turned around and pointed her wand in the prefect's face. He froze, as did Harry, seeing her vicious look. "I'm a witch just as much as you are!".

At that, a soft but somehow easily heard voice spoke up. "Indeed, you are, Hermione Granger. And young witches do not point their wands at prefects, Miss Granger". All 3 of them looked to see Albus Dumbledore standing in between the tables, apparently having observed the proceedings, presumably from the head table.

"In fact". Dumbledore gave Hermione a stern look. "raising your wand like that to anyone can be a good way to get hurt, to hurt others, or to escalate a situation needlessly. It is best not to use magic in anger, Miss Granger". She blushed furiously and hid her wand away in her ropes.

The headmaster turned to Harry. "Aah, Harry. Good to see you again, old chap. How are you finding the Slytherin dungeons? Warm and cozy, I trust?". Harry blinked. This seemed to happen a lot when he tried to talk to Dumbledore. "Uh, well they're not bad, headmaster. Our bedrooms are pretty cozy". Dumbledore nodded, looking like all was right in the world as he turned to the Slytherin prefect. "Ah, Mister Wynch. How is your dear mother doing?".

Now it was the prefect's turn to look embarrassed. "She is fine as always, headmaster. I believe you and her will have an opportunity to talk after the next Wizengamot". Dumbledore nodded and a spider dropped off of his hat and landed on Wynch's shoulder. The prefect winched and Harry made a mental note of learning a spell to do with spiders. Dumbledore made perfect use of the boy's discomfort as he reached in to sweep it away, letting it crawl into one of his sleeves. "Never you mind those, Mervin. Tell your dear old mother I said hi. I'll be sure to attend her birthdays".

He turned, almost as if to look at Harry, but ended up looking perfectly in between Harry and the older boy. "Students are free to fraternize with each other in the great hall and outside house dorm rooms, irrespective of which house they belong to. As I am sure you know, I myself put an end to that particular rule decades ago when I became headmaster. Do you require another copy of the memo, Mervin? The one where I remind our prefects not to try to prevent the Slytherin first-years from making friends in other houses?". The boy nodded, caught red-handed.

Dumbledore, however, per usual looked like this put everything in perfect order. "Wonderful, then. Harry, go right ahead and sit back down, there isn't an infinite amount of time in which to have lunch, you know. I never skip any meal at all if I can help it. Helps keep you awake through all that wizarding!". Dumbledore walked and Wynch followed almost automatically, until he somehow landed at the Slytherin table without seeming like he had been pushed by Dumbledore at all.

Harry secretly gave Dumbledore a point for keeping bullies away from the newcomers as he sat back down to lunch. He looked at Hermione and she looked furious. He shrunk. What had he done wrong?

She didn't talk but just started chowing down quickly. Eventually, Harry felt like he had to say something. "Hermione... Are you okay?". She almost chocked on her food and turned red. She said only a single word, but it was loaded with hurt, anger and venom. "No". Harry nodded. He hadn't thought so. "Not much experience with bullies, huh?". He tried to smile sympathetically, but it seemed that she caught his scent to easily. giving him a look that was devastatingly sad. "Oh Harry, you too? And... I have plenty". She went back to her food and now they both felt uncomfortable. Soon, they both finished and stood up to go to their respective classes. Harry had brooms with the Gryffindors and Hermione transfiguration with the Hufflepuffs.

As a last gesture, Harry shot her a smile, trying to comfort her. "Hey... At least it's better here at Hogwarts, huh?". Hermione again, to Harry's horror, looked like she was about to cry as she walked off into the crowd. Harry lost her in seconds and resigned himself to going to brooms and talking to her later. What was the worst that could happen?

He finished up and followed the other first-years from Slytherin and Gryffindor down to the great lawns where broom flying was supposed to be held. Soon they were all familiar with Madam Hooch, who would be their teacher. When Harry held up his hand and said "up", the broom flew straight to his hand. The same happened for Draco and a few other students, while most seemed to struggle to get it to even move. Draco snickered and pointed to a now very red Ron Weasley who was managing to make his broom roll around on the ground, but little more. As Harry heard him complain, "this always worked at home!", he couldn't help but snicker a little. It was funny to see him struggle.

Ron seemed to notice their laughing and tried again, this time getting the broom into his hand as he called 'up'. He gave them a triumphant smirk and Harry looked away, feeling bad for laughing at him in the first place. Draco looked like he was planning something but soon the teacher instructed them all to kick off the ground softly and land again. They all did, with the exception of one boy from Gryffindor who flew off into the air. The teacher took out her wand and cried out at him. "Get down right now! Right now!". Of course, shouting didn't stop the disaster, and soon, the clumsy-looking boy's broom flew off, sending him tumbling towards the ground. The teacher raised her wand well in time and cast a protective charm, but just as the spell was about to hit him, the boy somehow did a flip mid-air and dodged it.

The teacher managed to half-speak another invocation pointed at the ground before the boy crashed into it with a sickly, much-too-quiet "thud". There was silence for a second and then the boy cried out in pain, loudly, showing everyone that he was still very much alive. The teacher ran to his side, and all the students watched quietly, worried for his safety. Although Harry wasn't paying attention, that included Draco, Crabbe and Goyle, too. The teacher cast a few spells and looked satisfied. "He's fine, it's just a broken wrist. I'm taking him to the infirmary. You just wait here, and STAY OFF your brooms, you hear me? If I catch anyone on their brooms I'll have them expelled immediately!". She touched the boy and then held up her wand. It flashed with red light, once, twice, trice, and then she and the boy both disappeared.

"Poor Neville", someone said from the Gryffindors. Draco laughed. "It's his own fault. Isn't that the same boy who lost his toad in the train? What a clump". Harry furrowed his brow. There was no need for Draco to be this... abrasive. Just before he could speak up, Ron Weasley stepped out and pulled his wand. "You shut your mouth, Malfoy! As if it isn't bad enough to be forced to have brooms with you... you Slytherins, now you make fun of him for getting hurt? You shut your dirty mouth, Malfoy!".

Draco slowly raised his own wand. "Are you threatening me, - Weasley?". He spat the name like it was an insult. "You know I have a right, as the son of a noble house, to defend myself if you raise your wand to me! Surely you wouldn't be stupid enough to duel the heir of Malfoy!". Draco walked forward and it seemed like they were about to fight. Harry stepped forward, instinctively clutching his broom. "Hey, Ron, calm down. An-". Harry had wanted to continue and tell Draco to stop being such a jerk, but before he could Ron bellowed at the top of his lunges. "Traitor!".

At the words Ron pointed his wand at Harry with a vicious look in his eyes. Harry's first instinct was to avoid getting hit, to avoid even being touched by the splash of whatever it was. Years of bullying had implanted that reflex in his mind very well, and he jumped off to the side. He clutched his broom closer and soon he found it taking off from the ground as he tried to run. He jumped up to try and stop it, but somehow managed to turn it and dive, pushing it under himself before an urge to avoid crashing into the ground made him pull the broomstick up, as if to brace himself.

Instead of crashing into the ground, though, the broom flew off into the air and moved him out of the blue light that came from Ron's wand as he fired a spell at Harry. Harry almost crashed, one hand landing on the ground but his weight shifted before he could hurt himself. Instead, he grabbed a small ball which was laying on the grass, clutching it instinctively as it was thrust into his hands.

Draco, looking and seeing Harry take off, did the same and in only seconds the two boys were both high up and easily capable of evading Ron's spells. Harry was surprised by how natural flying brooms came to him. It seemed as if his mind and body were naturally attuned for the task, and he effortlessly flew through the air with grace and control. The broom worked... strangely. Not like a plane would, with momentum pushing it forward. Instead. Harry found himself... remaining in place easily as he touched the broom. He tested it out and found that he could even hover just above the broom if he was touching it with one hand. He did a spin, and found that he didn't fall towards the ground but stayed fixed to the broom. He could turn even at speed, high speed, without being pushed by forwards momentum.

He flew for a while before Draco swooped up besides him, and by now both boys were far outside the walls of Hogwarts, hovering over the great lake. There was no sign of Ron and the only sound Harry could hear was Draco's furious, almost maniacal laughter. "You got him good, Potter! But you must be crazy. One thing is to take off, but you flew all the way out here? And you flew, how do I put it...". There was a rare respect in Draco's voice. "Well. Like you have practised for years. There are even a few professional flyers who have not been able to hold themselves to the broom with one hand like that. Don't have the magical knack. I can do it, of course, but most can't".

For a change, Draco didn't seem as if he was boasting when he talked of flying. With how comfortable Draco looked on a broom, Harry was certain the boy had practised since he was little.

Draco gestured towards the school. "We really should go back, flying over the lake is definitively prohibited to first-years". He looked down, nervously. "There are... things in the lake, you know Harry, and they're not all friendly". After an unfortunate experience where Dudley had pushed him off of a bridge into a deep pond, Harry had a fear of slimy, squirmy things and the dark water. He shuddered and they both flew towards the school. A few seconds into their flight, however, they spotted something new. Another flyer was coming out over the wall.

"Is that... Madam Hooch?", Harry tried as his eye-sight was fairly terrible, even with the glasses. He was scared, now. He didn't want to be expelled, but Draco grabbed his wand. "No... It's Weasley. Quick... Lets get overland if this turns bad". He flew off to the side and Harry followed, reaching for his own wand. As he did, he realized that he was still holding the orb he had grabbed off of the lawn.

Harry cursed and didn't want to drop either his wand or the orb and instead focused on flying with Draco to somewhere over dry land. As they arrived, Ron did too, pointing his wand at Harry, then at Draco. "Give it back, Potter!". Ron screamed this almost like it was a battle cry, like he was preparing for some great work or quest. Harry was completely taken aback by this. What on Earth could he have done to make the boy so angry?

"Give back... what, exactly?", Harry tried. At this, Draco yelled out, "Drop your wand, Weasley!", but instead of complying Ron just pointed it back at Draco. Harry now shifted the ball into his other hand and drew his wand, and Ron watched the ball with building rage. "Give it back!". Harry looked at what he was holding and just saw a small glass orb with a glowing, red smoke within. He looked at Ron. "This? I don't even know what this is...".

He looked back at the orb and just as he did, Ron accelerated and came directly at him. "GIVE IT BACK POTTER!" he yelled, and Harry instinctively threw the ball to Draco who effortlessly caught it before he dropped out of the way, now holding only his wand. He evaded Ron and started to fly back towards the castle, Draco by his side. It was clear that Ron was not an inexperienced flyer, but his broom seemed to be having trouble. It was seemingly faster than Harry and Draco's, and they both had to evade him several times as the flew towards the castle, but it manoeuvred very poorly.

When they were right over the walls leading back into the courtyard, Ron flew up close and pointed his wand at Harry. He was about to cast another spell, but Harry reacted faster, pointing his own Wand in front of Ron's broom and casting the only spell that came to mind. "Vermilious!". Red sparks flew from his wand and sprayed the area, and Ron reacted by diving away to the right. Harry flew upwards, and looked down.

Uh oh. Professor Snape, Professor McGonagall and Madam Hooch were all standing on the lawn. Ron seems to have noticed them too and just flew down and landed. Harry followed him, terrified at what professor Snape, his head of house, would do to him. Would he be expelled and sent back to the Dursley's? Harry felt panicked as the thought come to him and Draco landed.

"Mister Potter, mister Weasley and mister Malfoy. What on Earth have gotten into you boys? Are you out of your little minds? Flying around over the lake, having a duel for all the world to see? What do you think Hogwarts is? You will come with me now, all 4 of you. Professor Snape and I can't simply overlook this".

Someone gasped from the Slytherin crowd. "But they'll be expelled! They can't be!". Harry saw that it was Zabini, who Harry hadn't spoken to but seen around, that had spoken up for them. Zabini looked as if he immediately regretted his outburst as Millicent, who seemed to have a tendency to pick on people, interjected. "C'mon Blaise, even you can't be that stupid! It doesn't matter what they say in the rules, they don't really throw out the children of noble houses, they can't, you see? That threat even only works on muggleborns". She said this just loud enough, and just exactly as everyone else had stopped to listen after Blaise's words.

Professor Snape spoke up. "Miss Bulstrode! Are you under the impression that you are above the school rules, just for being from noble blood? You of all people should know that we do not run Hogwarts that way. All the rest of you best take heed of that fact as well!". He looked to the Slytherin and Gryffindors both, speaking with an unusually firm voice. "At Hogwarts, everyone follows the rules. There will be NO breaking of rules by my Slytherins. I hope that is perfectly clear. Miss Bulstrode, you have earned a detention as well. Follow professor McGonagall and I and we will start at once."

The girl looked stunned but Snape started walking, followed by a satisfied-looking McGonagall. Not a word was said by either of the 4 children as professor McGonagall escorted them to her office with Snape following closely.


	16. Chapter 16

As soon as they were in McGonagall's office, which to Harry looked like a shockingly ordinary office, Snape leaned down and gave them all horrible looks. "Rule-breaking at Hogwarts is not tolerated". Snape looked to the girl. "First off, Miss Bulstrode, you have been rude and you have disgraced your house by acting without manners in public. This does not promote your agenda and creates a negative image of Slytherin. For that, you will have one week of detention with Mister Filch. Go now, girl, and find him. I will make sure that you have reported to him every single day, or your next punishment will be far worse. Go, now".

He indicated towards the door and she left in a great hurry. Snape looked to McGonagall who looked back at Snape. They exchanged some kind of look Harry didn't recognize and both looked back at the 3 boys. McGonagall was the one to speak up. "What you have done today is completely unacceptable. Duelling, in front of other students? Flying over the great lake? Stealing?". She looked at Harry now, who clutched the ball. "I am hearing all sorts of things, and I come down to see you lot use your wands on each other! In anger! Don't you understand what it means for that to be brought into Hogwarts? You are only first years, but surely you must understand that if you use your magic against others we can't teach you in good faith".

Snape smiled at this and looked at Harry as well. It was a smile of joy, but not of warmth "Especially the more... dangerous aspects of our art". The head of Slytherin now looked at just Harry and Draco. "Are you little fools out of your minds? You think yourselves serpents? Fighting in public? You should have known better." Draco had enough and tried to defend himself. "He attacked us first!". He pointed at Ron. "We were just talking, and he pulled his wand, and fired a spell at Harry". Harry thought about it and Draco was right. That had been how it had gone.

McGonagall looked at Harry. "Is that true?". He nodded to confirm and she pondered it for a little. "Do you have anything to say for yourself, Ron Weasley? Your mother will be terrible upset when she hears about this". At this the red-haired boy suddenly seemed timid and cowed, having remained silent and defiant until then. There was no anger left in him. "Please don't tell my mum, professor McGonagall. She'll take me out of Hogwarts and lock me in the basement, snap my wand in half!". Harry slowly turned to look at Ron. He WAS joking... right? To Harry, it seemed like he was.

Ron turned his head and caught Harry's eye, which had been searching and unsure. Ron immediately turned back to anger. "What's your problem, snake? Not happy to just get me i n trouble?". At this, McGonagall intervened again. "Mister Weasley! That is quite enough. 5 points from Gryffindor for your behaviour, boy. What is wrong with you? You do not call other children by slurs. I thought you, of all people mister Weasley, should have understood the importance of that. To think, with all the work you parents do for equal rights, you judge Harry just because he was sorted into Slytherin? I'm sure your mother will be right ashamed." At this, Ron was utterly done being disobedient and slumped, looking like he most of all wanted to shrink into himself.

McGonagall was the one to speak the punishments aloud. "You will all have 2 weeks detention with professor Snape. I understand he has a lot of initial prep work to do for potions, isn't that right, professor". All the boys groaned, but Snape cut them off. "Silence! Don't complain like children. Face the consequences of your actions and step up to fight another time. You especially, Draco, should know better than to show humiliation like that. I must have a talk with your father". At this it was Draco's turn to go silent, and Snape now turned to Harry.

"You. Again, it must be you, Potter? Can you not stand to live for a mere few hours without attention? Without the whole world focusing on you?". Wanting nothing more than to be left alone, Harry felt low. But his anger still wasn't extinguished. He had only defended himself. Snape made sure that none of the boys had time to complain. "When you serve your detentions, you will think about obeying the rules here at Hogwarts, and you will regret making your houses look bad". Snape looked to McGonagall who took over.

"Now, it is clear that this all cannot go unpunished. And you should not think light of your punishments. Professor Snape will ensure you regret your indiscretion. The most important thing, after the fact, is finding a way to make things up to your new houses, the members of which you will all be spending a very long time with". She seemed almost saddened, but then her look turned to one of determination. She seemed to carefully make sure this look wasn't seen by Snape, who glanced at her just then. As the professor explained about the Quidditch tryouts, Harry felt distant again.

The lights dimmed and although his body continued to nod, and to listen, his mind was far away. He saw a corridor in the school, and a small, hidden alcove behind a statue. He saw himself crawl towards it, and trace his wand on the wall in an intricate pattern. Parts of the wall seemed to dissolve, and there was a seemingly bottomless, black well into which he jumped. He fell through the darkness, and soon found himself standing in a lit hall without having entered it or landed at all. The hall was enormous and in the very centre was a great walkway of stone, cutting across two turbulent lakes of water flanked by statues of the heads of serpents.

Harry snapped out of it and looked up at McGonagall who had fallen quiet and fixed her attention on him. "Potter? Do you understand?". He couldn't say he did, and had learned from experience that it was better to fez up and avoid misunderstandings, unless you were dealing with Dursley's. "I'm sorry professor, I didn't quite catch that... last part". The transfiguration teacher gave him that same annoyed looked she had used when the two had first met. "You will be allowed to try out for your house Quidditch team, Potter. All 3 of you will". Ron and Draco looked beyond excited but once they exchanged a glance Snape swept down. "Enough! This is not a celebration. You all have detention, starting right now".

The boys spend the rest of the day of cutting slimy leaves for professor Snape. Although they weren't allowed to talk, they still managed to share their mutual excitement to play Quidditch. At first, it even seemed as if Ron and Draco might get along, but by the end when the boys headed for dinner, exhausted and slimy from the dirty work, Ron walked away in a huff, earning a snarl from Draco. "Don't worry about that blood-traitor, Potter. He'd rather there were no wizards at all, and everybody had magic, even the lowliest muggle thug!".

Harry thought about this for a few seconds and imagined Dudley holding a wand. No thanks. That was not a world he wanted to live in, and once again, Harry failed to understand the true implications of Draco's words. Instead, they just ended up talking excitedly about Quidditch, and which positions they both wanted. As soon as they both considered seeker, it became a competition to see who would get the coveted position. Again, he and Draco were rivals, and both seemed to revel in the feeling of competition and resistance. Both wanted to win.

There were trials for the Quidditch teams for 3 days, and by the last one Ron, Harry and Draco had all earned a position on their respective teams. Harry was keeper, and Draco was to be the youngest seeker of the century. Ron was a chaser on the Gryffindor team. Harry was happy with all of this. For a change, people weren't looking at him and saying just Harry Potter, the boy who lived... with muggles. Now, they were calling him the Slytherin Keeper. Harry was due to see Madam Pomfrey, to have his eyes cured before training. Whatever that meant. Draco had been teasing him a little about not getting seeker, but mostly they had both been excited to be allowed to play. They all still had detention but were not allowed to talk during. Harry was grateful, because he would having trouble not lashing out at Ron. He hadn't done anything to him, and still Ron seemed to hate him just for being sorted into Slytherin.

Harry walked into the infirmary and suddenly felt very uncomfortable, realizing where he was. The room was very bright, cool and airy. It was very much a hospital, even if it was a wizard hospital. Harry had never been comfortable around doctors. One time, a doctor had examined him and found that he had 'unset broken bones', or something. The doctor was talking about his left knee, which he had injured sometime immemorial. It had always given him trouble and on bad days he limped a little even if he tried to hide it. He could run, but if he tried to land on his leg he would regret it.

The doctor had talked to a teacher, and a social worker had been sent to the Dursley's. After they found that Harry was not being abused, but rather had gotten himself into trouble, Vernon had made sure Harry never let anyone see any of his bruises or scars. And now, he was with a school nurse. At least it was only for his eyes. The nurse saw him and gave him a smile that seemed warm enough, but Harry still did not feel safe or comfortable.

"Mister Potter, I presume?". After Harry nodded she directed him to sit on one of the beds. "Take off your glasses please, Mister Potter". He did and she leaned down and looked him in the eye, directing him to look every which way. She held up some fingers about 3 feet away from him. "How many fingers am I holding up, Mister Potter? And how blurry are they?". Harry tried, but couldn't count the fingers and reluctantly said so. She just nodded and looked at his glasses. They were now in pristine condition after he had learned Occulo Reparo.

"How long since you have had your prescription checked, Potter? Did your doctor say anything about special conditions?". Harry frowned. He didn't know. He just knew his eye-sight had been bad and always had been. The Dursley's got him glasses after it became clear he would hurt himself very obviously without. Harry felt cold. Until he was 7 and started primary school, they hadn't bothered to correct his vision at all. That was a lot of years to spend without being able to see things clearly. He had gone quiet, and the nurse was looking at him, now. He mustn't let anything show and spoke quickly.

"Oh, I don't remember. A few years ago. And no, I didn't have any special conditions or anything, just really bad eyesight. The glasses only partially correct it". At that last bit she nodded as if that proved something and Harry was instantly aware that he had overspoken. She raised her wand and pointed it at his eye. "Hold still, Potter. This won't hurt at all. She mumbled a few incantations and ordered Harry to stop blinking.

Eventually the tests were over with and the witch looked concerned, holding her eyes closed and looking very focused. "Indeed...", she spoke, opening her eyes and looking at him sadly. "Your eye-sight really is quite poor, Mister Potter. I shall have to see to that. We are forced to do this now, rather than slowly like normal, because you must be ready for tryouts. But that means that you will stay right here, with me, unless the spell is finished. You must change into hospital robes". He blushed but she pulled a curtain around the bed.

He changed, quickly, and was unhappy to find that the robe was short-sleeved. His right elbows had been broken, once, and it too had never healed quite right. And now she might see it. He changed and then laid down on the bed with his elbows downwards. He told her he was done, and she came back in and looked at him satisfied. "Excellent. You may as well get comfortable, Mister Potter. You aren't going anywhere until tomorrow, and until then, you will need to be blinded to avoid pain or complications".

At this, Harry felt a sting of panic. Blinded? The nurse continued. "It won't hurt a bit, but a spell will prevent you from opening your eyes. It will be finished in the morning. Would you like music, Potter? We have all kinds, even muggle music. You can operate it with your voice". He shook his head. "No thanks... What exactly does this entail?". He was still nervous but she just raised her wand. She spoke an incantation, and the world went dark.

She intoned another spell, and his eyes felt hot, and strange. He thought that his eyelids were closed, but he was unsure. The nurse talked again. "Now you just wait, Mister Potter. Don't try to open your eyes, you can't anyway, and for Merlin's sake don't touch them. And don't get frightened, either. You can call for me anytime. Speak my name in my infirmary and I can hear you, I promise. You are quite safe here".

Harry felt reassured, but only a little. He slipped under the blankets and was happy to find that not only was the bed warm and comfortable, the blanket easily concealed his marks and bruises. He settled in and decided to try to listen to music. He had not been exposed much to music except through the radio, and had no clear preferences. His uncle had sometimes listened to the radio, but he always turned to another station if Harry looked like he was enjoying a tune. Once uncle Vernom had found that Harry didn't care for elevator music, he found a channel that played it at all times and somehow taught himself to enjoy the horrid stuff.

Harry remembered a movie he had once watched and asked for something similar to the Star Wars theme song. Soon, a familiar tune softly played around him. His eyes still felt tense, and he let the music flow through his mind, knowing that he was not allowed to leave the bed, and couldn't read without his eye-sight. He had no visitors for a few hours, and then he heard a familiar voice.

"Hey Harry". A chair was pulled up and a girl who he knew by voice as Hermione sat down next to his bed. "Blind, huh?", he heard her ask, her voice full of cheek. She obviously found this amusing. He didn't reply and she happily continued. "I finished the second year potions text, Harry. Even if professor Snape doesn't give me any house-points, he still marks my essays with the highest grades. What have you been getting, Harry?". Harry was getting good marks, but not perfect. And he had only read ahead a few weeks, not two whole years...

Catching up with Hermione was going to be difficult. "Leave me alone, Granger. You're just taking advantage of my blindness to get ahead a little, that's all. I'll get you eventually". He laid back and tried to look supremely confident. Hermione ended up quizzing him on the material of the first-year book, and although Harry did not do poorly, he did not do well. Then him and Hermione talked about the little things in their lives, and described their dormitories to each other.

Madam Pomfrey eventually shooed Hermione from the infirmary, insisting that Harry needed to rest. He resigned himself to trying to sleep without music, but it would take and hour before he managed to fall asleep. He was haunted by a strange dream.

In the dream, he was crawling through tunnels. He was inside Hogwarts, he knew that. He came into a large chamber, and shifted back into his human form. This chamber had what he was looking for. It held power and answers and secrets. He walked up to the great statue of Salazar and opened the door to the inner portion of the chamber. Then, dream-Harry found himself in another place. It was by the ocean. It, too, was a place of importance and power, because Harry had done something here. Something big.

Harry had felt cold in this part of the dream and hardly human at all. He climbed out of the cliffs and watched the ocean. He had finally done it. Now, he was immortal. Now, he would rule the world forever as its Dark Lord. He had completed the ritual, the feat which only one before him had managed. Better yet, he had perfected it. 7... there were 7, now.

Harry woke up with a gasp. It was morning, and he had opened his eyes without remembering he wasn't supposed to. What he saw shocked him, because he saw everything. Clearly. Harry Potter now had vision which was far better than the muggle 20/20 ideal. He now easily had better vision with no glasses than he had ever experienced even when they were knew. He had none of the usual pain around his eyes, caused by the very outdated prescription for his glasses. Harry felt happier than he had in a long time. Magic was fantastic!

Madam Pomfrey walked over and seemed deeply satisfied. "Excellent, Mister Potter. You have made a full recovery. I trust your new and improved eyesight is to your liking?". Harry eagerly confirmed that and thanked her more overwhelmingly than he had anyone in years. His eyes were fixed! He got up and the nurse didn't stop him but simply pulled the curtain again and let him change into his robes, obviously taking a great pleasure in helping him to get better. Harry decided he liked Madam Pomfrey, even if she was bossy.

Better yet, it was Saturday, and that meant no school. The first week of classes was over. Harry got dressed and put his wand back in its place near to his thigh. He was beginning to rely on the feeling of having it there. It made him feel safe. Feel like he had an actual say on his own destiny. He pushed the strange dream from his mind and rubbed his scar absent-mindedly as he left the infirmary. It was hurting again. Harry was used to his scar hurting, but realized that it hadn't since he had arrived at Hogwarts.

Harry thought of the dream. It felt... eerily similar to what he had seen in potions. Not because the contents were similar, but because of how Harry had felt during. Cold. Inhuman. Harry thought of hovering over the lake on his broom earlier that week and shuddered. He had definitively felt something, then. Something at the bottom of the lake, although he didn't know what. He only knew that it was there, and that his scar hurt when he thought about it. He stumbled through the corridors, not minding where he was going. What was going on? He was going to have to talk to Hermione about these... visions. She would know what they meant. But he was reluctant to tell the school nurse, let alone a teacher or his head of house.

They would only react with medical checkups, and those brought trouble. Hermione would have to be sworn to silence, but... could her word be trusted? She was a bit eager to please her teachers. Harry thought about it. Draco? No. The boy would tell his father, and if it was important Harry felt it would be used politically. It was very obvious to Harry how desperately Lucius Malfoy had pushed his son to promote the his own political agenda. Harry suddenly realized he was lost. The corridor felt familiar, somehow, but he didn't think he had ever been here.

He had stopped. After walking aimlessly, he had stopped, and he felt very clearly that there was something very familiar about this spot, if not the rest of the corridor. Yes... He looked to the left. There was a small alcove. A small alcove... Harry walked over and crouched down, touching the wall. This felt so familiar. And there was... whispering. Whispering beyond the walls. He had been here before, done this before. He lifted his wand and tapped on the wall, and soon the bricks moved aside, silently. Nobody saw as Harry Potter jumped into the darkness, acting on pure instinct, and entered the chamber of secrets.


	17. Chapter 17

Harry landed in what felt like soft dirt. He had fallen for quite some distance, but somehow he managed not to hurt himself. His bum knee ached as he put a little more weight on it than it liked, but it was clear that some magic had cushioned his fall. The room he was standing in was pitch black, and Harry realized what had just happened.

He'd had some sort of... vision, and had jumped into the ominous, secret passage. Nobody knew he was here. He might die in here, like a toddler down a well. He stopped himself from hyperventilating and calmed down. Okay. This could be fixed. First, find out where you are. Then, avoid making the disaster worse. Finally, survive. Find a way out. He raised his wand. "Lumos!"

What looked like a great, empty room became visible around him as his eyes adjusted to the light that now shone from his wand. The room seemed to be centred around a great, golden double door. On each door was a great serpent, and the two snakes had entwined their heads to keep the door locked. Harry scanned the rest of the room but mercifully found no surprises. He looked up, to find the hole he had entered through, but the ceiling was smooth and solid. So much for that, but it wasn't like Harry knew how to fly anyway. At least not without a broom.

Cautiously, he walked over to the door and examined it. He felt like the door, too, was familiar but this time there was no vision to guide him. He felt ridiculous, sure it couldn't possibly work, but still raised his wand and tried. "Alohamora!". Of course, the spell the first-year had so easily learned had no effect on the ancient wards. Harry sighed and examined the door. In books and movies, there was often a riddle or some sort of clue which would allow the hero to unlock just about anything. Surely, they wouldn't just leave him here to starve... would they?

That begged the question. Who were 'they', and what was this place? Harry tried to remember his vision. Somehow, it felt like a memory from another life. It was faint, and yet very real. In the vision (dream?) Harry had known exactly what this place was. It was the 'chamber of secrets', and it held something that he had wanted. Still wanted? The dream-vision had been unclear on that. The only thing Harry truly remembered was the combination. A tap of his wand there, a scrape here, and the wall melted. Harry felt like there was something significant about the pattern but couldn't place it.

Harry sighed again and looked up at the massive door. He could not think of a way to budge it, so he did the only thing that came to mind - he jumped up and tried to touch the golden snakes. Luckily for Harry, this did not set off any of the protective enchantments, and he just fell back to the ground without having accomplished anything.

This time, though, he did not land well and managed to bump his bad knee. He leaned against the door with a gasped as the sharp, familiar pain shot through his leg. He looked up at the door and cursed. Damn door. In his last vision, he hadn't had to land in front of a door! He had landed inside the chamber itself, exactly where he had wanted to be. He looked up at the door and now talked, as he oftentimes did on his own, to vent his frustration.

"Why don't you just open?". At the last word, a very soft 'click' was heard and the two snakes disentwined slowly. Harry heard a voice from the snakes and shuddered at the cold, inhuman tone of the speech. "Sssalutations, heir of Slytherin. Enter, and ssstrengthen yourself". Harry slowly rose to his feet, unhappy to find that his knee now ached and forced him to limp as he walked. Soon, the snakes settled into place with a surprisingly soft 'click', and the doors slid open.

The doors opened in complete silence and Harry was more than a little unsettled. It seemed to him that a door this big had no business being this quiet. Like it was almost obliged, by common decency if nothing else, to at least creak. But the door opened in complete silence. It moved slowly and a great darkness gradually became visible. Harry held his wand up higher, to see into the dark, but soon it seemed an entire world burst into being.

Like a wild, radiant flame a sea of torches were lit in the darkness in front of Harry. The chamber inside seemed big, impossibly big. At the centre was a tower. A great, solitary tower. The tower was smooth and without features except a great telescope on the roof. The telescope was pointed directly into the ceiling, which was enchanted like the roof in the great hall.

But this roof didn't show the sky outside Hogwarts. At least not in the same way. What Harry saw he had never seen before, although he had once seen a faded image in a newspaper. Harry was speechless as he saw Andromeda in all its glory. Harry looked down and saw that the tower was surrounded by a moat, and that a great bridge let across. The bridge was almost twice as wide as the great hall, and had a low, reassuring wall that started at the beginning of the bridge and seemingly ran in a circle around the tower.

Harry wasn't sure what to do, but he couldn't see a way out of the room other than to cross the bridge. It felt to him like he should see all the torches as a bad sign, a sign that something had seen him, but somehow they felt reassuring. The bridge raised up a little and then went entirely flat and without supporting structure, in its entire length, until the tower on what was almost an island.

Harry couldn't believe this could all fit in the basement of Hogwarts without anyone noticing until he remembered it was all magic. That made him wonder how much of this was all real, and how much was illusion, but that line of thinking just gave him a headache and didn't seem to accomplish anything. He took a few timid steps forward but found the bridge quite solid. It's width made it feel safe and unsafe all at once, like even if he might be free from the risk of ambush, or of falling into the water, he could still be watched too easily, and would have nowhere to hide... except the water, and that was unthinkable. He thought about the whole setup being at trap, but the great golden doors from before made that seem very unlikely to him. The moat and bridge were both lit by torches and the walls rose as high as the tower itself. Where the light of the flames didn't shine, the celestial night sky did in its place.

As Harry looked, it was no longer Andromeda who adorned that great ceiling. Instead, it now showed the night sky almost as it would look in the darkest parts of the abandoned industrial park where Harry had sometimes hid from the Dursleys and played. But rather than dim, from the light of the houses and cities in the distance, the sky was bright and vivid. Behind the familiar stars, Harry could see the hazy mist of the universe, galaxies and stars appearing brightly and beautifully. Harry had never seen anything like it, and neither had anyone muggleborn. No telescope had ever compared to that, legendary one made by Salazar Slytherin, of which all modern versions were nothing but an imitation.

Harry, of course, did not realize he was looking at one of the great magical treasures of the world. He only saw the tower as faceless and intimidating, and the sky as an image almost as if out of a dream. Even if Harry did not understand, he enjoyed the moment as only a child truly could. For a few minutes Harry Potter gazed at the sky and forgot that he had ever lived under a cupboard. A sense of determination and almost insane joy rode through his body. THIS was magic, and Harry laughed aloud, laughing until it sounded almost desperate.

As the boy coughed and finally caught his breath again, he looked up at the tower and his laughter subsided. He had to find a way out of this mess. And then, he had to figure out why on Earth he had jumped in here to begin with. It had seemed so obvious at the time... Find the alcove, open the entrance and jump. That was how he got to... Wherever this was. The chamber of secrets, a voice in the back of his head told him. And somehow, that had seemed natural to him. Class was over, and nobody was expecting him, and that meant it was time to come here. To do something. Something very important?

Harry walked towards the tower and absent-mindedly rubbed his scar. His scar was burning, and he felt a strange and unfamiliar tension in his chest. It wasn't like anxiety, with which Harry was familiar, and rather it felt like... pressure. From the inside. He put a hand on his chest but found that everything felt normal, and the sensation disappeared. He shook his head and realized that he was thirsty. He looked at his wand and remembered reading about a spell to create water.

"Aguamenti!", Harry tried, but could feel that his wand-work was off. Water didn't flow from his wand like it should, but instead a mist of something warm and smelly sprayed out the tip. Harry wrinkled his nose and hurried on, eager to get away from whatever that fluid was and made a mental note to memorize that spell properly. It would be like having water with him wherever he went. He could last for days anywhere with just water, eating what he found. Harry grabbed his wand tighter and smiled, feeling more confident than he ever had outside of his dreams.

Finally, he reached the end of the bridge. Looking back, it seemed like an impossibly long walk, and it had certainly not looked that long from the other side. The Chamber seemed impossible greater, and Harry realized he had been walking for almost 10 minutes to get to the tower. At least it hadn't tried to pull an infinite bridge trick on him. Harry laughed again, but this time got himself under control again. Being a wizard was cool. His life was starting to sound like those old books he had used to read.

Thinking of books and adventures made him think of monsters as he inspected the door into the tower. The tower was very wide, but not extremely so, and seemed almost impossible tall when Harry stood at the base of it. The doors into the tower were more simple than the ones before, but also much heavier. Instead of two serpents, there was a true web of silver serpents mixing and twisting together, forming an oddly tall door. Harry unhappily noted that several of the silver snakes had red ruby eyes and were looking directly at him but decided to walk closer anyway.

There was no other way out, after all... giving up and waiting to be rescued had never even occurred to Harry. He looked up at the door and thought about what had happened before. The door had reacted to him saying "open", so he tried that again. "Open?", he said timidly, pleading a little with the door. He repeated himself, louder. Then yelled, like it was a command. Then tried again, like it was a spell rather than a command. But nothing happened.

Harry sighed. It was like this in books, too. Sometimes things got boring, and a bit repetitive. And those times... Harry smiled, a sly smile unlike his normal one. Those times, the hero had usually forgotten something important, and Harry was the hero, after all. And what had he forgotten?

That he had only come here by following a vision. And that that in the vision, he had known how to get in. So... he had to know. He looked at the door, and he knew. This was very familiar. He needed to speak the passphrase. He looked up at the sky and then remembered it. He spoke, again feeling like he had done this before, "towards the great heights I do strive". Nothing happen. Harry frowned. He don't know how he knew, but he know for sure that this WAS the password. At least... it was supposed to be. Could it have changed?

Harry paused. This was a very strange way of thinking. It was like deja vu, but it felt less like reliving and more like half of a memory. This place looked and felt secure. Familiar. He looked around. Yes. He had definitively been here before. But when? And how? In a dream? And then it hit him. He had dreamt of this place at uncountable times, ever since he was very little. One of his first memories was waking up from one of those dreams to Uncle Vernon dragged him out of the nursery to shove him in the "refurnished" cupboard that would be Harry's home for so many years. This place was not just familiar. When he was little Harry had used to lay for hours in his cupboard and fantasize about it.

In his dreams, he had never really went inside. But the dreams had always been similar. Harry had been going on with his normal life. The Dursley's had been there, and the dream felt hollow and grey. Just the existence of so regular and boring a dream caused the world to weep on behalf of the little boy who could dream of such horrible things as uneventful everyday life. But those dreams had always changed into good dreams. The special dreams, where Harry was a wizard. Dream-Harry had decided that enough was enough, and had used his magic to defeat the evil and make the world good again. The evil had often been Vernom, or Dudley.

He shuddered a little, as he always did thinking of those dreams. He remembered his uncle's reaction the one time he had accurately described one of them. "There is no such thing as magic" was still burned into his mind, and as those old words came to mind he was suddenly overcome by a cold, burning anger. He cried out, first in surprise, and then yelled as the anger flared inside him, intensely, like a fire burning out of control. He took a few steps and then kicked the air. Then the anger subsided as suddenly as it had come and he felt cold, and scared of himself. What had just happened? But along with the cold, and the anger, Harry also felt something else.

He had another hunch, but this time he reacted cautiously. Something about the situation was off, and it had something to do with those dreams. But Harry had still not understood the nature of the dream-visions and instead turned his attention to the door. He looked back at the door and smiled as he looked into the eyes of one of the serpents and spoke, repeating the password.

"Towards the great heights I do strive". This time, something about the password was different and the snake closed it eyes, feeling eerily like it was blinking at him. Then it, and the hundreds of other snakes, seemed to disappear into each other and melt into the sides of the tower. Harry walked forward, still overcome by an intense sensation of remembrance. What he saw was fascinating. It was a great, round room. It had a great marble floor, and a magnificent pattern tracing the seal of Slytherin was set into the floor. There were a number of arches and door-ways in the room, and it seemed very much like an entrance room. At the very end of the room there were a two slick, black double doors, separated by a column doors. Above one a plaque read "up" and above the other, one read "down".

Harry looked around the edges of the large, round room. The ceiling seemed to form a dome and this time looked like plain stone. There were no windows or other sources of light, but the entire room seemed to be lit, as if it was morning on a pleasant, cloudy day. It was similar to the Slytherin dungeons, where the light and air always made it feel like an hour before sunset on a rainy day. Harry looked up and felt very grateful to be indoors where it was warm, and not have to choose between being cold in the rain and being home with the Dursley's. Home. That word always felt dirty when he associated it with the Dursley's.

Harry remembered he was thirsty, and that made him remember that he had to return. It was lucky that nobody was expecting him, because by this point he had certainly been gone for at least a few hours. He briefly worried about being unable to return here if he left, but a strange certainty washed over him. He would be able to return here anytime he liked. It was a strange feeling to be so sure of something that was supposed to be impossible to know, but somehow he still was. He walked the edge of the room and now felt driven. He knew how to get out. He arrived in front of a small black door, almost exactly his own height. The door was unmarked, but Harry knew it would take him back.

He reached for the handle and saw there wasn't any. He touched the door to see if it could be pushed open, but found that, instead, the door felt almost like it was tensing, pushing back against his fingers. It felt like a surface that took effort to maintain, like a bubble of incredible strength that would burst if he pushed on it too hard. But he did, and the door caved in a little, sinking into the wall and yielding to him easily. He took a step forward and let himself push into the door and soon he almost fell forward, taking a step into one of the corridors close to his potions classroom. Nobody was there to see him step out of the small alcove and look around.

He brushed off his ropes on instinct, but they were pristine. There had not been as much as a spec of dust anywhere in there, even though it certainly felt that it had been very long since anyone had been there. Harry looked around and, seeing nobody, started down one of the corridors towards the library. He still wasn't sure if he should tell Hermione or not, and he definitively wouldn't tell Draco. Either way, he wanted to re-read 'A history of Hogwarts'. Specifically, the parts about the chamber of secrets.

Harry walked lost in his own thoughts and didn't see his head of house slowly creep up behind him. "There you are, Potter". Harry turned around and came face-to-face with a very angry looking Snape. "I don't know where you've been hiding, but it ends now. With me. Now". Harry hesitated for only a second. Should he run? Or try to come up with an excuse? But before he could reach a conclusion the professor pointed down the corridor and repeated himself. "NOW, Potter". Harry moved before he had a real chance to decide and soon found himself back outside professor McGonagall's office.

Harry felt a sick, sinking feeling in his stomach as he was lead into the office. Were they changing their minds about letting him be on the Quidditch team? That had certainly been too good to be true. He looked and to his surprise saw not only an irate professor McGonagall but also a very meek-looking Neville Longbottom, the boy who had broken his arm at brooks practice.

Snape shut the door behind Harry and McGonagall, it seemed, did not waste a second. She came up to him, moving faster than it seemed like she should be able to, and looked him in the eye. "Harry...". Her tone made him extremely nervous and was tinted with an usual sadness. "Did you take Neville's remembrall the other night?". Suddenly, Harry remembered what he had forgotten, and Neville's remembrall felt very heavy in his pocket. 

* * *

Author's note: I had originally planned for the Chamber of Secrets to be like the one in the movie, but as I walked Harry through it I found the location truly uncomfortable. Writing this scene wasn't the end of me, but it left a very unpleasant taste in my mouth. As might be obvious I have a fear of water, and writing from the perspective of a character in a scene where I'd feel so threatened wore on me.

Fortunately, I had a better and much cooler idea for the Chamber of Secrets. You'll see.

This is what I wrote before I changed my plan for the Chamber. It will not be continued.

It is not proof read and never will be.

* * *

and revealed the hall which Harry had seen in his earlier vision. "I guess the vision wasn't completely off, then...", he mumbled to himself and walked forward.

As he walked into the great chamber he felt very much like prey. The chamber was large, impossibly large, and even Harry's bright wand could not illuminate most of it. To the sides of the chamber there were great holes, like tunnels, leading presumably leading away from the chamber itself. Harry felt very, very watched as he took a few steps forward. On both sides of the great walkway there were artificial lakes, with water constantly flowing into them. The water seemed to be in motion constantly, more than it should have been from just the small stream, and Harry had felt sickeningly sure that something was alive in that water.

He took another few steps, and nothing landed on him. Where was a vision when he needed it? And what exactly was this place? Beyond the water were a number of statues, showing the heads of serpents. The room was so wide it the statues were barely visible, but Harry still recognized the design of the serpent. It was identical to the seal of Slytherin. Harry had never heard of a chamber of secrets, though. Somehow, he imagined it was not normal for students to just stumble upon things like this.

But is that really what had happened? Harry began to walk, now, towards the other end of the hall, not eager to explore the round tunnels. Those felt like a trap, and even sure as he was that something was in the water he preferred to take his chances here to trying to brave the tunnels. He still felt eerily like something was watching him from the tunnels and picked up his pack, glancing back but doing his best not to show panic. Another thing Harry Potter understood very well is that you could never show weakness to a predator.

Harry was unable to find an answer to the riddle as an end to the walk-way not slowly started to be lit up by the light of his wand. Harry gasped as something splashed in the water, first pointing his wand and then looking right behind him - but nothing was there. After a few minutes he started talking again, his heart now beating and his palms sweaty. He tightened his grid on his wand - this was his only weapon, feeble as it was, and he would not loose it easily. A few more steps and he could see the end of the walk-way. He was happy to soon be far away from the water and picked up his pace.

Something splashed again, closer this time and he gasped and pointed his wand all around, frantically. The light from his wand did not penetrate even the surface of the murky water. He wanted to run, but he did not want to encourage whatever it is to attack. On the other hand, running now could save him... he decided not to run and walked, heart beating, until he finally reached the end of the walkway.

As he got to the end of the walkway, his courage failed and he ran until he hit the wall. He turned around, expecting to see a lumbering or slithering monster come at him from the water, but nothing did. After a few minutes Harry's pulse slowed and nothing had stirred in the water. He slowly walked to each side of the chamber and found that even here, on the other side of the walkway, there was nothing but solid walls.

Harry furrowed his brow. That couldn't be right. This place was huge, and it was definitively built for a reason. He walked back again, and this time he focused on the wall on the opposite side of the great doors. Something about the wall felt familiar and he stopped as he was right in the middle of the great statue. Yes... this was the spot. But the wall was completely blank.

Harry stood there looking at the wall for quite some time before he spun around, suddenly sure something had snuck up on him. But nothing had, and he lowered his wand slowly. He turned back to the wall. Maybe he could force another vision to come to him? This was the... entrance, to whatever it was he wanted, he was sure of that. He closed his eyes and visualized the archway, and felt a very feint shimmer of... something. But nothing happened.

He felt strangely exhausted after trying to force another vision to come to him and ended up resting for a few minutes. Once he had caught his breath again he turned back and tried again, and this time he made some progress. The lights dimmed... a little. And he heard a faint whisper. It was nothing more than that, but Harry had, at least, managed to get one new piece of information - He needed a password. In the vision, he had spoken a password and that had... caused the next thing to happen, whatever that was.

Harry cried out and dropped to his knees as an intense, searing pain shot through his scar. He screamed as it seemed to get worse, threatening to split his head in half. He lights grew bright again, and this time it seemed that the brightness was invading his head, tearing it into pieces. He screamed again and lay on the floor for several minutes until the pain started to slow down. His first instinct was to turn off the light from his wand but as soon as it was pitch black he remembered the splash in the water from earlier and forced himself to sit up and look towards the two great pools. "Lumos" he whispered, and on the third try he managed to actually cast the spell again.

There was still no sign of whatever it was that lurked in the water, and Harry eventually recovered. His scar was still burning and throbbed, each pulse sending pain into his head and eyes and making him feel like vomiting. "Ugh...". He couldn't help but cry out. He had had headaches before, of course, and his scar had always been a problem, but it had never been this bad.

Harry tried to take a step but he almost stumbled, his knees giving in. His legs felt weak and Harry realized that he felt very, very tired and very thirsty. How long had he been in here? It had been at least an hour or more, he was sure of that much. This was bad. He had to get back before anyone missed him.


	18. Chapter 18

"Well?". McGonagall gave him a look that made it clear to Harry he had only a few seconds to defend himself. He touched his pocket, and as soon as he did he knew denial would not work. He took out the ball and McGonagall's face tense as she looked at it. Harry jumped in before she could talk. "Do you mean... this? I picked this up, I forgot I even had it...". In Harry's hand, the remembrall was glowing red again, the smoke within moving seemingly on its own accord.

Snape gave him a look that betrayed disdain. "Doubtful. You stole it to take a trophy from the Gryffindor runt". At this McGonagall looked at Snape and, although seemingly perfectly calm, spoke in a loud and clear voice. "I will not have you call my students runts, Severus, just as I will not allow my Gryffindors to call your young snakes serpents, or to accuse their fathers in front of other students".

Snape ignored her and instead turned his attention to Harry. "Why must you continue to act up, Potter? Is your fame not enough? Even being on the quidditch team isn't enough for you, is it? Always you must have more, even if it means taking from others". Listening to the bitterness in his teacher's voice, Harry was again shocked by the degree to which it seemed his potions teacher resented him. Harry wanted to be liked, and to be looked at so harshly by a stranger irked him to his core.

"I'm not acting up". His voice was calm, but he looked Snape in the eyes. He then looked at McGonagall, who was accusing him of stealing. "And I don't steal. I never have, except food.". Harry hadn't meant to say that, and as soon as he did he regretted it. Snape's expression didn't change, but McGonagall looked worried, and more tense. "But you have stolen food?", she asked, carefully keeping her voice neutral.

Harry looked away. Damn. Now he was in trouble. "Yes... I wasn't allowed to eat until all my chores were done, but sometime I had enough work for a whole day, or even two. And I try not to work when I'm too hungry, it just makes me clumsy and then I hurt myself...". He spoke as he would have to the Dursley's, accepting the trouble he was in almost instinctively, rather than try to show will or spirit and just anger them more.

Then Harry remembered where he was. He was aware of the weight of his wand, and again he felt that the wand spoke to him. You are not a child, Harry, it said. You are not defenceless, and you have a voice of your own. Harry looked back at McGonagall, and now he felt anger surging up inside him again. "You of all people should know that I might have had to steal food everyone once in a while. You questioned me about it, didn't you?".

Harry didn't like being accused unfairly, and this time he let his anger show in his voice. "And I didn't steal this remembrall, either. Ron attacked me and Draco, remember? I dodged out of the way, and I just landed on this. I grabbed it by instinct and put it into my rope when Ron attacked us, for the second time, outside the walls! And it's my fault?" Harry looked at the remembrall which still glowed red and with a quick step handed it to Neville.

"Here's your remembrall". Harry made eye contact with the boy. This determination was rare in him, but it was a good feeling. Harry didn't feel small and cornered, as he normally did when talking to adults. Instead, he felt that he truly had a voice. That he could take charge of his own life. Neville accepted it with a timid thank you, and Harry looked at him again before turning back to the teachers and walking back to the spot he had been in before.

"And I didn't steal it, professor McGonagall. I just picked it up and forgot about it. I'm not used to having a rope at all, let alone one with so many pockets". Harry sighed. Wizard ropes had an awful number of pockets, most of which were larger than they looked. It was rather handy, and Harry had taken to carrying around light things like snacks or quills in these pockets. "I'm not a thief, and I don't care what you accuse me of".

Harry turned back to continue but Snape cut him off. He sounded furious, and Harry suddenly worried what he had gotten himself into. This man was his head of house. When Snape spoke, his voice didn't betray the emotion Harry had seen in his eyes. "Two weeks detention, Potter, for insolence. Whether or not you have stolen anything, or you are simply incapable of remembering even simple things, you do not speak to your superiors that way". Snape smiled with satisfaction as he saw Harry cringe at his last words. "And 10 points from Slytherin for stealing. You do not simply pocket something you pick up, Potter. This is Hogwarts, not some dirty back-alley. Return whatever you find".

Harry thought of the dirty back-alley where professor McGonagall had originally confirmed to him that Hogwarts was really real. The memory gave him strength and kept him from bursting out again. McGonagall, rather than listening, also seemed to focus more on the fact that he had spoken out of turn. Spoken beyond his station, like he was a real person instead of just a "student". Or worse, "Potter", which is exactly what the Dursley's had always called him.

She composed herself for a second and when she spoke Harry found himself unable to recognize her tone. "You really should have known better, mister Potter. Known to return something as soon as you found it. Why didn't you just return the remembrall after you lot went flying and we pulled you into our office?". Harry stopped himself from talking loudly, but still cut her off. "I forgot. I already told you. I forgot it was in my rope".

Like professor Snape, McGonagall looked to be in no mood to listen to an opinion that wasn't her own. "Enough, mister Potter. No more. Neville has his remembrall back, and you have learned your lesson. Lets hope your detentions with Severus will be enough". She rubbed her brow, as if getting a headache, and looked away, out of the window. "I hope we don't see each other outside of transfiguration, Potter. I trust you will abide by the rules your head of house gives you".

Snape looked at McGonagall and then spoke without betraying his emotion. "Indeed he will. I will make sure of it". Harry realized there was no point trying to explain the truth to adults and after that point he just went with the flow. He accepted his detention and pretended to be penitent. Meanwhile, he was thinking of what he had found earlier. Snape deducted 5 points more when it became clear he wasn't listening, and Harry knew that by this point his class-mates would resent him for loosing so many points.

It wasn't like Harry had actually done anything bad, but that of course didn't stop him from being punished. When he was finally excused from the office - with a warning from Snape about being on time for his detentions tomorrow. Harry left in a hurry and hadn't looked once at Neville after returning the remembrall. Nobody had ever told Harry what the red smoke in the remembrall meant, so it was only obvious to the others that he had forgotten something.

Magic was a curious thing. Sometimes, it would give you all the answers, whether you know what they meant or not. Harry thought about the visions as he walked down the hall-way and rubbed his forehead. He thought about the chamber of secrets. Which definitively was the name of the place he had visited. Had that really happened? Harry thought so. In spite of the visions, he felt sane. He felt balanced, and he felt calmer than ever.

Harry smiled, even as another sting of pain shot through his head. The headaches were getting worse, but now, whenever his scar hurt, he felt as if on the threshold of another vision. He walked past an alcove with an inclined, comfortable-looking stone bench embedded in the wall. He sat down and looked around, and decided that the bench was safe enough, and seemed to actually be a normal bench. He gave in to the vision and fell back against the wall.

He was back in the chamber, but this time he was in a library within. He was studying on his own. In fact, there was nobody else in the entire chamber. This was his place of power, where he would never allow another. He frowned as he finished another one of the books, this time a short grimoire. A horcrux. What an interesting concept. As soon as this thought came to him, the scene changed. Although Harry was still in the library, he was now standing and he knew immediately it was several months later. On a table in front of him lay a book, and on the floor next to the table lay a corpse. Harry raised his wand and intoned...

A spell, but the scene changes before Harry could hear it. Now he is looking at a book which is slowly filling itself out with text. It spells out, letter by letter, "I am Tom Riddle". Harry frowns. The scene feels wrong. This isn't how it's supposed to be! It changes again, and now Harry is pointing his wand at an old witch. Harry casts a spell, but he doesn't speak, but only flicks his wand. The witch is under his control, and after her eyes go blank she hands him a silvery locket, with the image of a Slytherin's serpent engraved in the centre. As soon as Harry sees it, he knows that it is the real locket.

Harry grunts. Something is wrong. The locket dissolves, and Harry feels only the blinding pain of his scar. Something continues to be wrong, and Harry tries to move his body, which tells him that it's currently laying on the floor. After another sharp bolt of pain comes and goes, and now he hears a sound. Someone speaking? That's odd. He can't hear, and he can't see. Harry groaned and slowly opened his eyes. Everything seemed distorted, but soon begins to come into focus. There was a wand pointed in his face. And a girl.

A brown-haired girl was pointing her wand at him, and was casting a spell. Harry wondered, briefly, if he should be alarmed and then he coughed and started to feel himself gasp for air. He could feel his arms again, and his legs, and now he could hear her mumbling clearly. He looked her in the eyes and she paused. "Harry?". It was Hermione, of course. Harry felt tired and closed his eyes. But there was no more pain in his scar, and so he sat up. His head felt sore and he assumed he must have bumped it. Hermione now sat down next to him and loosened the tension in her wand-arm.

"Harry?". Her voice was pleading and she tried to force him to look at her. He did, briefly. "Are you okay?". Now her voice was soft, but demanding. Harry still had a little pain in his scar, but otherwise was fine and he told her so. Soon, the both of them were sitting on the bench, but Hermione was still looking at him with concern. "Harry, we've got to get to you to infirmary". She raised her wand, presumably to intone the spell that requested teacher aid, but Harry grabbed her hand. "Wait, Hermione. I'm fine".

She gave him a frown. "Well you are now, but you need to get checked out. If you're fine we'll walk to the infirmary, right now". She stood up but Harry shook his head. "I'm not going, Hermione. I'm fine, really. I just get... headaches. I always have. Migraines". Hermione looked hesitant. "There has to be a magical cure for that, though". Her voice was stern and confident. "We should go. Please, Harry".

Harry thought about the chamber of secrets... and then he though about the Dursley's. About the one time a school nurse had looked him over, one of the only doctor's visits Harry had ever had. The nurse had seen some of his bruises, and had noticed his bum knee. That day had already been bad, Dudley-wise. It had been two year before Hogwarts, actually, almost exactly. The nurse had talked to a teacher, who had talked to social security.

The had ended up visiting the Dursley residence. For 4 hours, they talked to Vernom and Petunia. There was tea, and everyone except Harry had enjoyed cake. Then, they had talked to Harry for a few minutes before decided that he was a pest, and had just been trying to get his aunt and uncle in trouble. Harry had long ago learned never to complain about the Dursley's, and had lied through his teeth, eager to get rid of the social workers and get out of the house before Vernon could punish him. The few days after that were mostly a haze, and it ended up being 4 months before Harry was allowed out of his cupboard to do anything except clean his bucket in the basement sink.

Harry did not like doctors. He did not like being 'checked over', prodded, jabbed and pinched. And he had long ago learned, at a high cost, that letting anyone find out he was hurt would only make things much, much worse for him. So Harry did what he always had, and pretended to be okay. He kept the pain that still throbbed in his scar to himself and spoke only after he had made Hermione sit back down on the bench next to him.

"I'm okay, Hermione. Promise". He sighed as she didn't look reassured at his words. "It's my scar, Hermione". She looked down, now. The two of them had not talked about the scar that made him famous ever since they had become friends. Harry liked that about her. That to her, their competition had nothing to do with his fame. It was just between him and her. "It's always hurt, but it's just been particularly bad lately. It's because of Hogwarts, I think. I hadn't been out of my... old house for a while". Harry had almost said his cupboard. "Then I stayed at the inn in Diagon Alley until school began. That let me, you know, catch up with books and such, and it also helped me learn more about the wizard world. McGonagall even let me practice with my wand, a little".

Hermione now looked, if not suspicious, then at least a little jealous. "You were tutored by McGonagall? I wasn't allowed to practice any of my spells before the train, you know". Hermione had read more than him, that much was obvious, but Harry thought she was still upset about loosin their duel in front of the other students. It was now getting close to dinner time, and Harry felt anxious again. Maybe today he and Hermione shouldn't try to eat at the same table, just to avoid being picked on by the other Slytherins.

Harry wondered if anyone in his house liked him. He hadn't really made any friends other than Hermione yet, except possibly Draco, but Harry just wasn't sure what to think of him. He briefly came up with a story to explain why he hadn't just stayed with the Dursley's, but Hermione didn't seem entirely convinced. Harry said that he wanted some time to think, and after many assurances that he was okay Hermione let him eat on his own without complaint. When he did sit down at the Slytherin table, some students avoided his gaze while others just seemed disinterested.

Harry thought about the chamber of secrets as he noticed that a boy shot him a glance. The boy had been talking, quietly but furiously, to Draco before Harry had sat down. Now he whispered something to the person sitting on his other side, Millicent Bulstrode. She listened and looked at Harry, too, and then they all went back to eating. Harry tried to catch Draco's gaze, hoping to get at least some information from the boy, but it felt like he was invisible to Draco who kept up a conversation with Zabini, who sat directly across from him.

Harry finished dinner quickly and scurried off. He didn't want Hermione dragging him back to Madam Pomfrey's, even if he felt a little bad again. Harry gave one last look at the banners in the great hall before he turned away towards the Slytherin commons, and was shocked by how clearly he could see the hall itself, and all the people walking out. He reached to adjust his glasses, and found that he wasn't wearing them. Which, of course, made him realize he hadn't seen any other wizards wearing glasses. The potion had, apparently, fixed his eyes for good.

It was almost too good to believe. Harry arrived in the commons before most other students and went to his dorm. He picked up a book he had been eager to read, intending to finish it before bedtime. This way, nobody would talk to him and he'd get a chance to rest his mind. The book was about the Russian wizards and the Muscowian empire. He was reading for almost two hours until two other Slytherins stopped in front of his chair.

Harry hadn't been paying attention, and had almost finished his book. The book had helped him to understand professor Shura better. It seemed that the empire had promised to kill anyone who, like her, defected from the country to another, especially to teach. The Slytherin common room had copies of the daily prophet, and the diplomats of the Muscovite's had officially asked for Shura to be handed back over to their care. Dumbledore, who had a legal right in Magical Britain to take in teachers from foreign countries, had politely refused.

Then he had politely suggested that the Empire had better things to worry about. The prophet ended by speculating that this referred to the trouble the empire had been having in Georgia, where rumours of the reawakening of Baba Yaga still abound. Harry furrowed his brow. Baba Yaga? As in, the fairy tale monster? Magic was also supposed to be a fairy tale, but he certainly hoped that at least some of them weren't true. Harry was unable to continue his train of thought now as the two kids came over to him.

Harry recognized both Millicent Bulstrode and Lucian Bole, a third-year who was a beater for Slytherin. They hadn't really talked, except to say hi during practice. Millicent started. "We need to talk, Potter". Lucian made it clear that they weren't really there to just talk by pulling Harry out of his chair by his robe. Harry instantly wanted to bolt, but had picked a chair in a corner where he had felt safe. Bad move. Now he was cornered.

He thought of his wand, but decided not to go for it yet. He wanted to see where this was going before he escalated, and besides, professor Snape would blame him if wands were drawn, no matter who had started what. Harry settled for giving Lucian a defiant, but not aggressive, look. "What? I'm minding my own business". Lucian shook his head. "That's not good enough, Potter. I'm sick and tired of having to watch you make a fool out of the rest of us. You half-bloods shouldn't even be in Slytherin house to begin with."

Harry hadn't heard that term before, half-blood, but figured out what it meant. Millicent jumped in before he could respond. "Your mother was a mud-blood, Potter. Your blood is filthy and your father was a blood-traitor. Whether or not you were sorted into Slytherin, you are not worthy of being here. Salazar would be ashamed if he saw we had let people like you into our house. Dumbledore must have put a curse on the sorting hat".

At this Lucian burst in. "Are you saying Dumbledore would be able to circumvent the spell of the founders? No way. He isn't even anywhere NEAR that powerful. As for you". He turned back to Harry. "Enough of consorting with mud-bloods. I don't care what that half-blood Snape says". Harry couldn't help but notice that Lucian lowered his voice at this last part. Even if he didn't like Snape, it seemed he was not eager to be overheard. "but that is going too far for Slytherin. Sinking too low".

Harry decided that he had had enough. He moved his hand to where he could easily grab his wand and looked at the nearest escape route. Millicent didn't notice anything, but Lucian was quick with his own wand. Before Harry could decide whether or not to act, the older boy had pulled his wand forward and cast a spell on Harry that forced him to sit back down, and took away not only his ability to walk, but also to speak. Harry instantly panicked, but found that panicking was useless.

Millicent laughed, a shrill and unpleasant sound, and then pinched his thigh, hard. Harry couldn't even cry out in pain and this only seemed to amuse her more. The way her chin jiggled reminded him of Dudley and Harry felt fury begin to rise in his blood. Before Harry reached his boiling point, a voice, and then another, was heard from behind the two bullies. "Hey!". It was Draco who spoke up first, flanked by Zabini who spoke afterwards. "Leave him alone".

Harry could turn his eyeballs, even if he was capable of very little else. He saw that his two classmates had their wands pointed at Bulstrode and Lucian. Lucian looked at them, still holding his own wand, but decided not to take any chances after seeing Draco's determined look. "This isn't over, Potter", he stated and then walked off, flanked by a Millicent who looked like she'd rather have fought than fled. Draco flicked his wand at Harry, who felt free to move again as his friend intoned a counter-charm.

"Sorry about that, Harry...". Draco looked remarkable uncomfortable. "Their... fathers don't believe even half-bloods should be allowed to take part of magical society. Father believes we are too few and that even if we should, of course, stop interbreeding in the future we need to include those who have at least half of a noble line in them, to prevent the old families from getting lost or inbred. That includes the Potters, you know. Nobody born to wizards should be treated that way".

Harry wanted to stand up for Hermione, but he was tired. So very tired. He just nodded. "Thank you for helping me... I think I'll just go to bed, actually". After a little bit of chat and some attempts to convince Harry to stay up late, he managed to retreat to his bed, which thankfully had a curtain to protect him. As he laid down, he noticed a package stuffed under his blanket.


	19. Chapter 19

Harry ended up waiting until the rest of the students were asleep to open the package. At first, he thought there must a mistake. But the package was clearly labelled. "Harry Potter, bed number 3 from the fireplace, room number 3, the second room in the the left corridor of the Slytherin common rooms." The addressing was oddly specific, and happily reminded Harry of his letter from Hogwarts, which he had kept in his bag ever since then.

Something soft was inside the package, and when Harry was finally sure that everyone else was asleep he cast a silencing charm on the curtains of his bed and opened the package. What was inside the package looked almost like fluid moonlight, and flowed out through the new tear in the package like a slow liquid. When Harry touched it, he found that it felt smooth, and somehow entirely without friction. It was cool, but not cold. There was also a letter inside and Harry read it before he investigated the strange contents of the package.

The letter was clearly penned with a quill, in a fancy but simply script.

"Harry,

It is time for this to be returned to you, as per your parents wishes.

This is your parents cloak of invisibility, Harry.

I had to smuggle it into Hogwarts for you. Dumbledore certainly would not have allowed you to have this.

The symbol on the inside of the cloak will be of interest to you. It is the symbol of the deadly hallows. Perhaps that legend isn't all myth.

Do not allow Dumbledore to know you have this. He would not allow you to use it to its full potential, and if he even suspected that it really was one of the deathly hallows he would move immediately to take it for himself. He blames you for being sorted into Slytherin.

Do not trust Dumbledore. Severus can be trusted, even if he is kind of a git.

Kind Regards,  
PB

Harry re-read the letter at least 4 times. He could not figure out who "PB" could be. He also felt cold when he thought of the letter's accusation. If Dumbledore learned that he had the cloak, he would take it for himself. He didn't know what a deathly hallow was, and he felt uncomfortable knowing that this "PB" assumed that he did. He would have to find out. He looked at the silvery substance and soon found out where it opened. It was indeed a cloak, but it seemed so small, just big enough for a toddler.

But he found that the cloak was stretchy unlike any other fabric he had seen, and when he pushed his hand into one of the sleeves it expanded without even moving his robe out of place. He tried it on and indeed found that his body disappeared. It was easy, unnaturally easy, to put on the cloak, even siting in a bed. He felt a hood, and looked down and saw nothing except the bed. He was completely invisible, with not as much as a shimmer showing.

Harry pulled it back off, and it moved back into the small shape. Harry tried to roll it up, and found that it would easily fit in one of the pockets of his robe, and that it didn't deform the robe or feel heavy against his skin at all. He pulled it back out and looked at it. This was, without a shadow of a doubt, the best thing he had ever owned. He remembered his wand, and felt bad. Bad enough to touch the wand, as if to reassure it, or himself. Second best, at least. A wand, and a cloak of invisibility. Harry smiled, again feeling like a real wizard.

He knew what he was going to use this for. He was going to go to back to the chamber of secrets, and find out what was really going on. But he as slowly drifting into sleep, still wearing his robes, still with the cloak in his pocket. Maybe he should change? But he ended up just slipping partially under his blanket and falling asleep, quickly. Harry was still young, and he was not yet at the standard of health that wizards have grown to take for granted.

The next day was Sunday, but students were still required to attend breakfast at 9. Harry got up, but was impatient for the meal to end. As soon as the food disappeared and the students were excused, he went off on his own. He had some homework in transfiguration, but he would see to it later. He had already finished his potions essay, although he assumed Snape wouldn't grade it very highly. He didn't care. He saw Hermione glance towards him, but decided he would talk to her later. For now, he wanted to return to the chamber.

Before he could get out of view of all the other students and try his cloak, though, an irate-looking Hermione caught up with him. "Harry Potter!". She sounded outraged and harry winched and wished he could have made it away before she caught him. Before he could ask what was up, she made it very clear. "You have been avoiding me, and we're both supposed to write essays for transfiguration. You said we'd do it together, Harry. It'll be good for us both". To Harry's surprise, Hermione's voice had turned friendly.

"But you don't you go running away when I talk to you. It's rude, Harry". He blushed a little, and as soon as he realized he pretended to cough and shook his head. "Sorry, Hermione. Sure... let's go to the library". He was still thinking about the chamber as they walked until Hermione stepped in. "Harry... we have to do something about your headaches. Specifically, you have to see madam Pomfrey". Harry shook his head. "No way, Hermione. The first match is tomorrow. You know that".

Hermione just looked annoyed. She clearly didn't appreciate quidditch like Harry did. "That's silly. If you're sick, you see a doctor. What did your muggle doctor say about the headaches, Harry? Or is it caused by... the curse?". Harry thought about it but only for a little. "It always starts in my scar. It spreads into my skull, and makes my head feel like it is being pounded or squished. Then sometimes all the lights turn to bright for me to see, or I loose track of time for a bit, or there's a flash of green light. Hermione... I've always been like that. It's the scar".

She was worried, that was clear. Harry didn't want to push her away, he just didn't want to think about being hurt. Being fragile. "Hermione...", he tried. "are there any good self-healing spells? I always feel... tired after I work too much with magic". Hermione still looked suspicious, but she answered him none the less. "Well... yea. Some diagnostic spells, and such". Harry smiled. "Do you get the result in your head? Or does it read it out loud?". Hermione thought about it. "The diagnostics one all give you the information so only you can hear it. It's the third law of magical medicine, Harry". She frowned. "You should know that. It was mentioned in charms".

Harry smiled, now teasing Hermione and trying to get her to ease up. "Slytherin doesn't have charms again until Wednesday, Hermione. We have a daily double session of defence for all of next week". Hermione frowned. "But we only get 8-10 hours. Don't you have other classes?". Harry shook his head and smiled. He would keep his advantage over Hermione, it seemed. "Nope... just defence".

His smile dropped and he sighed. "I do have detention with Snape, though. Two weeks". Hermione tried to judge if he was joking, but settled for reassurance. "No matter, Harry. You'll just get really good at preparing potions ingredients, huh?". Harry laughed a little, and neither of the two children knew how true that would be. Harry thought about his homework. "I'll have to stay up with my homework... I wish I had more hours every day". He yawned and Hermione frowned. "Yea... that sure would be handy".

They both said it at the same time. "Do you think they'd let kids use something like that?". They were both silent and Harry was surprised to see that Hermione looked a little flush as well. But he just shook his head. "No, I don't think they would. Adults never think kids can do anything". Harry had never really been allowed to do anything. He didn't remember a single instance of the Dursley's keeping their word to him, or giving him anything that he wanted no matter how well he behaved, or how consistently he did his chores without showing fatigue.

They got to the library and Harry had an impulse. "I'll see you at our table, Hermione, just give me a moment". He went down the isles and went through the rows. Which reminded him - He needed a spell to search libraries. He decided to ask Hermione instead of waste time, and learned that "Verba Revilio" would let him search the library. Harry gave it a try, and soon got the feel for it. He searched for "time" in the charms section, and found that most of the section seemed to glow. None of the students in the library looked, and Harry tried again. "More time". That didn't change the result, but "create more time" showed him a small section.

To his surprise, he found that all of the books in the highlighted area were blanked, and would not budge when he touched them. Instead, a voice was heard, softly but commanding, as he touched the books. "Please wait for a librarian to see you". Harry frowned, but had no time to react before a woman stepped into the isle. She was dressed in all black, and both her clothes and her entire attitude seemed... pointy. When she spoke her voice was a shrill, and sounded almost as if on the edge of hysteria. "Irma Pince, librarian, I understood you were looking at these books? What for?".

She spoke quickly and Harry worried that she was going to start yelling. He decided to just give up and turned away but she stopped him. "No. You were looking at these books. What were you searching for? What is your name?". She didn't relax, or even stop staring, when he reluctantly answered, after being questioned a second time with more snark. Harry instantly disliked the woman. "Students do not just touch these books by accident, Mr. Potter. These books are only touched by kids who are looking for certain topics. Very specific topics. So tell me". Harry felt very uncomfortable, but decided he hadn't been doing anything, and presumably couldn't be punished... at least not by a librarian.

"I was just looking to see if there was a way to get more hours to study every day, is all. But I'll just look for... a potion that replaces sleep". The woman just shook her head and pouted her lips. "No, no you will not. Come with me". He hesitated, but she insisted. "Come! Right now, Mr. Potter". She went into her office, adjacent to the library, and Harry shot a glance to Hermione, who shot him a glance. Harry glanced into her office and saw her speaking some incantations over some parchment.

She rushed over to the door and saw Hermione. She perked her lips again, and seemed to somehow shudder in annoyance. "I suppose you have something to do with this, Miss Granger?". Hermione looked stiff as well, and raised her chin a little as she replied. Her voice tried to be free of emotion but was unsteady. "Yes. Harry and I were looking for a way to get more time to study".

She sighed. "Yea, I thought so. I swear, every year this gets worse...". She hands them both a parchment and looks at him. "What I'm about to tell you isn't for the ears of other students. What you want is time-turners. They are only given to high-performing students, and to earn one you must full out an application. But there are a whole bunch of rules and limitations that you must know by heart. Time isn't to be trifled with. You will both fill out those applications...". She put an inkwell on a small, unclean-looking table in her study. "Now. If you try to leave, I will stop you. Do it, and do it now".

Her tone was rude and very demanding, but Harry ignored her. In his hand there was a brief letter and a form. It was an application for what was apparently called a "time turner", which could turn time back as far as 5 hours every day. Those hours could be used for study, and this option was only available to students that had both high grades and acceptable teacher evaluations. There were no second chances given as far as abusing a time-turner went. Using it for cheating in sports or business was punishable by imprisonment in Azkaban, which Harry understood to be very severe even if he did not know the details.

The application was completed, and Hermione quickly looked over his before the librarian could snatch them both up. "This will be immediately submitted to Dumbledore, who will forward it to the ministry". She tapped the documents, and they almost seemed to shudder. After a few seconds it happened again, and the woman read the pages and sighed before banishing them with a flick of her wand. "You are to come for your interview at once". She flicked her wand at the wall and a fireplace appeared. She pulled out a pouch of powder and instructed them to pick it up and clearly say "Headmaster's office" as they threw the powder. Hermione immediately did so, without hesitation and without looking at the librarian.

Harry followed Hermione and threw the powder. He was swallowed up by the green flame like Hermione had been and he found himself hurtling through a tunnel at insane speed. The flash of green powder had made his scar flare again, with another old memory, specifically the one about his worst dream. In the dream, he dies in a flash of green light. He barely remembers the dream, and what little he remembers is mostly pain and fear.

The tunnel came to and end and he slid out on the floor of a new, unfamiliar room. The room consisted of several large, round rooms, all of which ended in domes or book-shelves of some sort. It was clearly larger than just what Harry could see, but still had a comforting feeling of being closed in without being claustrophobic. There was a device which somewhere in the background was making an irregular ticking sound. Tic, tic, pause. Tic, pause. Tic, tic, tic, tic, tic, tic... pause.

It was doing something, but whatever it was, Harry never saw the device for himself, on that or any other day. What he did see was Dumbledore, standing with his back turned, and an unfamiliar witch. Hermione was standing next to Harry and before either of them could ask what was going on Dumbledore turned around. Harry noted that he did not as much as look at him, and that even if he glanced at Hermione the man refused to make any eye contact with Harry at all.

It made him worry that he had upset Dumbledore, somehow. As far as anyone knew in Hogwarts, Dumbledore was the most powerful wizard in the western world. In Moscow, it was the Security Corps, a legendary task-force of soldiers and assassins, to which professor Shura had once belonged. In Asia, it was either the wizards of the Chinese Imperial court or the Japanese, Thai or Korean wizard-monks. But in the west, it was Dumbledore, and Harry did not want this legendary wizard to be disappointed with him.

Dumbledore talked and still did not look at Harry. "I understand that you have both sought information about time turners. We are currently not a liberty to discuss the topic. But if you would please both put on these chains and turn them once, only once, and only when I say, then we can talk". He gave both of them a slim chain with a curious pendant. Harry's had a chain of silver, with two rings set around a small hourglass. Hermione's was similar, but was plated with gold. The hourglass itself could spin, and so could the innermost ring.. After being urged by Dumbledore he put it around his neck. "Now... Turn the hourglass itself one time, and only once, before turning the hourglass upside down. Go now".

Harry did as he was told, and Hermione who was already prepared did it at the same time. Harry felt... light, as if he could float, and the lights again became bright around him. He didn't exactly see Dumbledore at all, but he saw a blur, almost as shadow of the wizard moving around in his office. Then it was over, and Harry saw Dumbledore sitting at his desk. There was still a woman with him, but this time it was not the unknown woman from before, but rather it was Irma Pince, the librarian who for some reason still seemed tense, and as if she was constantly pouting her lips.

The woman gestured to them. "These two students have been reading about time. You should have the talk with them". At that, she gave Dumbledore a respectful curtsy and soon disappeared in another flash of green fire. Dumbledore still did not look at at Harry, but turned to Hermione and started asking questions.

"Ah, miss Granger. I understand you have been asking questions about time. What were you looking for?". Hermione looked at Harry briefly before answering. "Well, professor Dumbledore... I just felt that the topic was worth looking into. Since there is no mention in the approved books other than warnings not to read anything to do with time. That it was dangerous to think too much about time".

Dumbledore gave her a single, grandfatherly nod. "Correct, Miss Granger. What did Harry ask you, about time?". Hermione looked very surprised and glanced at Harry to seek his approval. Harry had no idea what was going on, and did nothing to help her decide what to do, so she just grew flustered. Before it had been long, Hermione could stand it no longer and answered the headmaster. "We both just wondered if there was a way to get more time to study, professor. Sometimes our hours... vary, and it would be helpful to have a couple of extra hours to sleep or study".

Dumbledore nodded. "As you say, Miss Granger. As it happens, there is a way for students to achieve this. It is called a time turner. Of course, anyone who wants a time-turner has to take an unbreakable wow not to interfere with time, as you are both undoubtedly aware". Hermione furrowed her brow. "No... that wasn't in the books!". Dumbledore nodded. "Yes, this topic is restricted to younger students. Too many of our students have ended up becoming lost or trapped in time, in one way or another. The books you found are just a decoy. Either way, I will get you both approved for time-turners, but only if you will both take the wow".

Harry spoke up before Hermione. He was tired of not being spoken to directly. He wanted this just as badly as she did, and he didn't want to be sidetracked. "What is the wow, then? I will take it. I just want more time to study". Dumbledore looked tired and nodded. "Very well". He got up and walked over to Harry and Hermione. He pulled out a small, sleek wand in featureless black wood. He slowly raised it towards Hermione, but didn't point it at her.

He still did not look at Harry, and asked Hermione to raise her wand as well. The two wands pointed upwards were held close to each other and Dumbledore's glowed with a soft, colourless light. "Hermione Jean Granger. Do you understand that you are about to make an unbreakable wow?". She replied without letting her voice betray any emotion. "Yes". Dumbledore, as always, looked as if everything was right in the world and continued. "Do you swear not to interfere with time in any way, shape or form and to not experiment with your time-turner?".

She was silent for almost 5 seconds before she replied. "Yes". A small pulse of light was seen in the air and now Dumbledore turned to Harry. He still did not look at him, but held his wand in towards Harry, pointing upwards. He hesitated, and tried to make eye contact with the headmaster, but the old wizard simply looked at something elsewhere in the room. He seemed so casual about ignoring him and it made Harry feel furious. What had he done to deserve being ignored?

Then it occurred to him. Had he talked to the Dursley's, and heard their story that he was a terrible, deranged child? He had gotten into some trouble at Hogwarts already, and earned a detention. And been sorted into Slytherin, for that matter. By this point Harry was well aware that a lot of people thought Slytherin was evil for some reason. Harry supposed it had a lot to do with all the bullies in Slytherin, which seemed far more obviously present in Slytherin.

But he would not be bullied by the headmaster. He wanted this just as much as Hermione. How else would he keep up with her in studies? If she got 5 hours more to study every day he would be done for, even in defence. Dumbledore still did not look at him as he continued. "Harry James Potter. Do you understand that you are taking an unbreakable wow?". Harry hesitated. "Yes, but not what that implies". Dumbledore seemed pleased. "It merely means that the wow is unbreakable. You can never again take any conscious action to oppose the directive of the wow. That is why they should be worded carefully, or very generally, depending on intent. Harry James Potter...".

The hesitation in Dumbledore's voice didn't seem to harry like it was supposed to be heard. "Do you swear not to interfere with time in any way, shape or form, and to not experiment with your time-turner?". Harry didn't find the wow overly tricky and didn't see it implying anything sinister. "Yes", he replied, and then he felt strange. Almost cold, but not quite. He tried to think of the wow, and found that he could think only of the words he had accepted.

He tried to think about time and found that he could think about it as much as he wanted, but if he thought about changing anything or even clever ways to spend his time just slightly better, he found what the same words came to mind and his thoughts disappeared. Do not interfere with time. He understood what it meant for the wow to be unbreakable without it having to be explained. It was an unsettling feeling, because of the tremendous power behind the oath Harry had now taken. He would now be quite unable to break that wow for however long he were to live.

Dumbledore lifted his hands, as if presenting a great work. "It is done. You may both keep your time-turners, but there is another condition. Namely, that you do not talk to other students about this. Many of your fellows also have time-turners, but you should not discuss this with them, either. It is best to just use the hours to study privately and not think about it. Another alternative is attending extra classes". Hermione lit up at this.

"I would like to attend all the same defence classes as the Slytherins, actually. I understand professor Snape has arranged for them to have nothing except defence for the next week". Dumbledore replied and sound rather pleased. "Indeed, miss Granger. A commendable initiative. Our problem is that a Ravenclaw could not be seen in the class which is supposed to only be for Slytherins without this very naturally raising some questions. And either way, you will only be able to move 5 hours, and we will need to think of your other classes".

Hermione had almost started to look dejected before Dumbledore continued. "So, you will have to watch the lecture later. A small pensive will be made available to you with the full content of the classes. I trust this alternative is to your satisfaction? There are other classes, you know, that can be taken by students with time-turners, including a few voluntary or advanced classes. Maybe remedial botany this year?".

Dumbledore cleared his throat. "You should not be seen by yourselves or by other people, if possible. Do not answer strange questions accurately. Never answer questions about what time it is. Prefer to study in isolated classrooms. With your wows in place, it is not possible to create any damage to time, but you can seriously hurt yourself, or even have an accident if you interfere with your own past. So please do try not to erase yourselves from time".

Harry took that warning to heart, and soon after Dumbledore hurried the both of them out of his office, after giving them a small map of suggested locations in which to jump through time at certain times of day. Harry felt the weight of the time-turner which had been gifted to him, and wondered why Dumbledore still had not looked at him since his stay at the leaky cauldron.

He put it out of mind. Now he had a time-turner, a cloak of invisibility and a wand? The next few weeks would be fun, although this just mostly gave him back the time he would loose to detention with professor Snape. Hermione would still have more time to study, though, especially once the quidditch tournament started.


	20. Chapter 20

It was the day of the first Quidditch match, and Harry was desperately trying to catch up on his homework. He could only jump so many hours in time by day, and Hermione had forced him to set aside 3 hours for sleep before the match. He finished his potions homework first, like always, to avoid dealing with Snape, and now was doing his homework for magical history.

Harry found that the way Hogwarts dealt with 'magical history' was, frankly, ridiculous. Almost so bad it seemed like someone was trying to make it bad on purpose. Harry had learned so much more from the summaries on the back of books at Diagon Alley than he had in all his time with the ghost who was supposed to be a professor. Harry had even found that professor Binns was not like other ghosts. He barely replied to questions, and didn't stop droning on even if students openly talked near the front.

He repeated himself an awful lot, and kept mentioning dates of some goblin rebellion or other. Hermione seemed to dutifully mark all the information down, but to Harry a lot of it felt artificial. Professor Binns hadn't once mention any event anywhere outside of magical Britain at all. Harry noted that his history curriculum did not include any recent history - at all. Harry had learned from one of his books that Dumbledore was not just a teacher, but had defeated Grindelwald and his army and restored peace to Europe. Why Dumbledore saw fit to act like such a fool was beyond Harry, but either way, it was very strange that these events should be skipped over entirely.

Harry had never trusted adults, and certainly did not trust Dumbledore. He had taken to ignoring his teacher entirely, and studying history on his own together with Hermione. The Slytherins and Ravenclaws did not have history together, but since many students did not attend their classes at all, and all the lectures were completely identical, Harry had decided to just attend Hermione's classes.

Hermione, of course, had refused to even consider such a thing as skipping one of her scheduled classes. Harry was dismayed to find that not only was Hermione catching up with him in potions, it seemed she had already gotten far ahead of him in Enchantments, an optional course that was normally reserved for older students. Dumbledore had, to both their appreciation, pre-approved him and Hermione both to watch the lectures from afar in their lonely classroom. The lectures were delivered partially by professor McGonagall, and partially by a teacher Harry did not recognize who was addressed as 'professor Callaghan'.

The lectures dealt with a special category of transfiguration spells which were called 'enchantments'. They were taught separately because they were permanent, and like all topics that had anything to do with magic, were also very dangerous. The first thing they learned was to enchant a pencil to always be slightly colder than room temperature. Hermione did it on her first try, and Harry on his second.

He cursed internally for being slow, once again, and thought that at this rate he would never catch up with Hermione. He had not yet had time to return to the chamber of secrets, and for the moment the matter of the chamber was out of mind. He finished the useless history essay he had to do, covering a goblin rebellion that was identical to the last one he had written about in every aspect except the dates and the names of its leaders.

It was time to turn back time. 5 hours, and Harry would have 3 hours to sleep. The match was about to start in one hour, and by law, Harry was not allowed to travel back in time within an hour of a sporting event in which he'd be a participant. Harry had 1 hours to study, and then an hour to get ready for Quidditch. Against Hermione's advice, he decided to sleep 4 hours instead of 3 and skip his homework. She would rant later about him putting sports ahead of academics but he would just tune her out.

He finished his nap and immediately after getting out of bed felt both very awake and very nervous. It had been a long time since first-years had been allowed to play on the Quidditch teams, but after an abnormal amount of players graduated in the same year, the reserves ran out for 2 of 4 teams. Or so it had been explained to the school when it had been announced that no less than 5 first years would play for the Quidditch teams this year - Two for Slytherin, and one each for the other houses.

Harry had already heard a lot of snide remarks about how Slytherin was doomed to loose with him and Draco on the team. Harry had gotten better at playing keeper, and had found that he was a natural. His reflexes were good, honed by years of necessity, and Harry had very quickly got into the rhythm of deflecting the in-coming balls. Once he got over his flinch he had found that he very much enjoyed playing keeper. And today, it was time for him to do that. For real. They were playing against Hufflepuff, and tomorrow Gryffindor would be playing Ravenclaw.

Harry had been told that the Hufflepuff team was not big on technique, but was extremely resilient and impossible to tire out. Supposedly, they always played aggressively, even when on the defensive, a feat for which their coach, Noah Rowbottom, was widely praised. Slytherins were said to play by outlasting their opponents, Gryffindors by focusing on individual talent and opportunity rather than team strategies, while Ravenclaw always played in formations and stratagems and aimed to score more points than would be earned by catching the golden snitch, and delay the catching of same.

Harry could hardly believe it as the fact repeated itself in his mind. He was the Slytherin keeper. Teams had been short on players, and the requirements for age had been changed. He was going to play, together with Draco. Not only hadn't he been picked last, he'd been picked for the team. And for what could arguably be the most important position on the team, competing primarily with the seeker for prominence.

He sighed and started walking towards the staging area for the quidditch teams. It was time and there was no more putting it off. Soon, he found that all members of the Slytherin team were there, except one beater - Colin Phelps - who was in his last year at Hogwarts. All of the team looked unhappy to see a 5th year replace him. Slytherin had an advantage in strong and aggressive beaters, something their captain had repeated over and over again.

Once everyone was together, Draco gave Harry a smirk before looking up at captain Flint. Harry didn't particularly like his quidditch captain, who seemed like kind of a bully, but fortunately he had not picked on Harry at all, and actually been surprisingly nice to him. Harry was completely positive there was an ulterior motive, but for now he was just going to enjoy the peace and quiet of not being picked on. It had given him room to think and to relax and adjust to Hogwarts.

Flint seemed to take Draco's glance as a cue. "I have an announcement to make to each of you. You are very lucky to be on the Slytherin team this year for more reasons than one. An anonymous patron has made a donation to our team, which has gone to securing new brooms for all current players, including those who will be leaving the team next year". Flint's face at this clearly showed irritation, presumably directed at Phelphs who was out sick but would still be getting one of these new brooms.

"What I'm saying is that every player will receive a new, personal nimbus 2000. For those of you who are still in the first year, the brooms are indeed yours but must be kept in the Slytherin team captain's office until you graduate your first year, including flying class. For now, you can all pick... one". He made a gesture towards the side of the room, showing his admiration with his voice. There was a case for each player, and only very brief pushing before everyone fell into line. Soon, every player had picked up their own, sleek nimbus 2000. Draco gave Harry another smirk and held his own without showing as much appreciation as Harry certainly felt.

As they walked out on the field Draco walked up next to Harry. "You do know who donated these, right Potter?". Harry was about to reply at Flinch cleared his voice. "Alright, listen up, we are going to start with a pattern number 3, which means all of you on me". He gestured to some of the chasers and beaters. With a very quick glance at Harry and Draco, he added, "And you two just do exactly what comes natural and don't get distracted. Not for one second". That last remark was reserved for Harry who nodded with a steel resolve and growing smile.

He could and was going to do this. To play, and to play well. He had practised harder than anyone else on the team, and he was also eager to test out his new broom. He wasn't going to let anyone down. Much of the strategy which Flint reiterated before the teams were called over to start the game was irrelevant to Harry and Draco, who nevertheless both made a token effort to listen in the interest of team spirit or some such.

Soon, it was time for the game to begin. Harry mounted his broom along with the other players and soon, much too soon, a ball was launched into the air. Harry hesitated for a second, until he remembered his place. The goal posts! He turned away from the commotion, as he had been taught, and looked at the red quaffle which they would try to put through through HIS goals, but could not be allowed to. It had already been caught by a Hufflepuff chaser, who was now dashing off to the side and trying to avoid bludgers and chasers both.

Suddenly, the slow advance and defensive moves of the chaser changed into an aggressive dive. Straight for Harry's goal. Harry knew that players weren't allowed to collide but still instinctively steered out of the way. The chaser hadn't thrown the ball yet and continued getting closer. Suddenly, the Hufflepuff chaser lifted his arms, floating above the broom with evident skill, and raised the ball as he let out an ear-piercing scream.

"Victory!". The battle-cry was loud enough that Harry flinched, which allowed the ball to fly through a goal, causing a wave of cheers to run through every podium except the one for Slytherin students. Apparently, everyone automatically cheered for Slytherin to loose. Figures that it would be Harry's Hogwarts house that was the one everyone picked on. The ball was soon put back into play, and soon cheer was heard, this time from the Slytherin pulpits as a second point was scored.

This continued for a while until the score was 50 for Hufflepuff and 80 for Slytherin. Neither chaser had made any move yet, and Harry had been able to hold his ground after that first surprise attack. Or, at least, hold his ground better than the Hufflepuff keeper. His hands and arms were most definitively bruised, and it was little comfort that he knew a spell to heal bruising when he did not have his wand with him.

But something was off during the entire game. Slytherin was supposed to have an advantage with the new brooms, but it seemed that they were almost exactly evenly matched. Soon, it became clear to Harry that the Hufflepuffs also had Nimbus 2000 brooms, which he knew were brand new having only very recently been released for sale at all. So not just Slytherin, but also Hufflepuff, had rich patrons, it seemed. It didn't much matter to Harry either way, who was ecstatic to have his own broom, let alone a Nimbus 2000. He supposed he would have been able to afford one, but it was, after all, a professional broom, and a very expensive one at that.

His train of thought was interrupted as something came at him. He flinched out of the way of a bludger, at just the last second. In fact, it graced his chin and made him bite his lip. He dived, and soon saw that an attack followed. He turned around in mid air and narrowly dodged the returning bludger before stopping another ball from entering HIS goals. He cheered in triumph, but his cheer was drowned out by a numbing, sickening sound.

The sound was unlike any other that Harry had ever heard, and it almost instantly caused the game to cease up entirely. It came from the field, near to where the Hufflepuffs had entered. Once Harry looked, he saw that there was now a sizable contingent of people standing on the field, all oddly enough wearing bright, crimson robes. The noise sounded almost like fingernails running down glass, even if that didn't normally make too much of a sound. The noise ceased, and a voice boomed across the field. "Your school houses a traitor and a murderer, Dumbledore. We will leave your school and your students alone if you hand her over to us. At once. If you refuse, understand that we will kill all of your students without hesitation. Make your choice".

As soon as the speech had finished, a black cloud surrounded the pulpit where Dumbledore was sitting. The people on the field suddenly started to move like soldiers, and scattered off to the sides. They raised their wands, and... Harry's scar burned with the intensity of a thousand suns as flashes of green light shone across the slowly darkening field. His mind suddenly felt as not entirely his own as he flew, frantically, to safety, out of the way of the spells.

He dodged 3 spells, which seemed to be aimed directly at him, before the world seemed to slow down. Harry heard a sound that was close to paper being ripped, and suddenly the day was bright again, and everything had fallen silent. Dumbledore landed on the quidditch court, where Harry now only saw scorch-marks were the attackers had stood. Harry's stomach dropped as he saw, first, two students who had fallen flat onto the quidditch field, one in Slytherin colours and one in Hufflepuff. Another was laying on the ground in the hastily evacuating Ravenclaw pulpits, and Harry's stomach dropped as he prayed that it was anyone other than Hermione Granger.

Two Slytherin prefects on brooms intercepted him. "Come on, Potter. Back to the common rooms, lets go". Harry glanced at Dumbledore, who stood quietly on the grass of the quidditch arena. He seemed to be silently looking towards the scorch-marks that he had presumably created as Harry flew back towards the castle, following the two prefects, and what remained of his team. After 20 hectic, panicked minutes, all the students were back in their common room, where emergency assemblies were held.

A prefect, Damian Perriss, was the one who normally made announcements. But today it was professor Snape, who Harry had not seen as much of a shadow of outside his lessons in spite of his status as head of house, who did the talking. His expression did not seem very different from normal, nor did his voice express any grief, and Harry instantly found his dislike for the teacher deepening.

"I regret to inform you all that Hogwarts has come under attack, and that classes are cancelled for the foreseeable future. For now, you will all remain in your dormitories while matters are concluded. I wish this did not have to be true, but 3 of your classmates have died tonight, as well as 13 attackers whose deaths have now been confirmed. At the hands of professor Shura, Dumbledore and myself, I might add. I only regret that we were forced to wait until it was too late in order to judge their exact intentions. Rest assured that the wards have and will be strengthened. Hogwarts will not tolerate this assault. For now, we are under emergency emergency lock-down. This means that any deviation from the rules, ANY wandering the halls, any lateness for any assembly, can and will be the reason some of you get expelled. Under emergency conditions, there are no exceptions, not even for noble houses".

There was no whispering. No dissent. Nobody complained about the revocation of their privileges. There had not been deaths at Hogwarts since the reign of Lord Voldemort. For 11 years, there had been peace, which had now been broken. By now Harry knew very well that many in the dorm had lost family members during the war. Which, incidentally, is why he hated it when people called Slytherin students death-eaters. He knew for a fact that many of the people with 'infamous' family names had lost relatives during the war. Lost them to the death-eaters they were not accused of supporting.

Snape continued. "Funerals... will be held tomorrow night". Even Snape sounded like that had been hard for him to say, and Harry heard very rare emotion in the voice of his head of house. "And announcements about this will be made later tonight. Your parents and guardians have all been contacted". At this, Harry's stomach began to drop. The Dursley's... they could use this as an excuse to bring him back home. He started to panic, and noticed that a few other students were fidgety after hearing this last bit of information.

The students were dismissed and all went back to their dorms, and for the first while, nobody talked much. Once one student started, everyone was talking, and soon nervous whispering was heard throughout the Slytherin dungeons. Soon, the rumours all agreed that Miles Bletchley, one of the chasers, had been the Slytherin student killed during the game. Soon, several people claimed to have seen him fall from his broom, and the whispers turned to who the two other students could have been.

Harry's stomach turned as he thought of the person who had laid flat on the floor of the Ravenclaw pulpit. It hadn't looked like Hermione, exactly, but he still couldn't stop worrying. What if it had been? He put the thought from his mind and went back to simply listening, while fidgeting with his wand absent-mindedly. When the students where gathered again, they were lead towards the great hall, and the walk there was quiet like it had never been before.

When Harry finally got to the hall, the first thing he did was start looking for Hermione. Dumbledore was standing at the head table, watching the students settle into the hall. Professor Shura and Snape were standing on either side of him, and Harry remembered what Snape had said about the 3 of them defeating the attackers together. A number of people in navy-blue uniform robes were scattered throughout the hall, and Harry instantly recognized them as law-enforcement from their entire attitude. Finally, mercifully, Harry spotted Hermione, just as Dumbledore cleared his throat and started to address the students.


	21. Chapter 21

"Today, I shall have to talk to you all as I have not talked to children for 11 years. While you will all learn much today, it had been my wish that you should all be allowed this brief innocence in which to develop, free from the strife of the magical world outside of this walls". Dumbledore was silent for a brief instant before he continued. "That was not to be. Today, you have lost 3 of your classmates, and all of us have lost a little part of ourselves. In confrontations immediately following what you all saw, 5 aurors lost their lives, 3 of those operating outside the territory of magical Britain". There was a brief silence which allowed this information - and it's potential implications - to sink in.

"Tomorrow are the funerals of 3 students. The first to be held, in memory of the order of today's events, will be that of Miles Bletchley, a third-year chaser on the Slytherin team. He was known to play with skill far exceeding his age, and I can now confirm the rumour that he had been offered a contract with the French quidditch team and that he had intended to accept once he had graduated. He leaves behind family members and friends, many of whom are with us here". A brief, respectful silence allowed those most affected by the news to recover and those around them to show their respects in whatever way the found appropriate.

Dumbledore's obligation, however, had not concluded, and the now old looking wizard continued his solemn speech. "The second student we must say goodbye to tomorrow is Noah Rowbottom, who most of you will know as the captain of the Hufflepuff team. A lucky few amongst you also knew him as the student who always volunteered to help those first years who fell behind in charms, and who was always there to offer his support to any fellow students who was in need". Another brief pause let the Hufflepuffs recover from this official confirmation of what they had all already known.

"The last of those to whom we must say goodbye is Cho Chang, a second year student of Ravenclaw. Her family came to Magical Britain to seek a new life for themselves, and have established themselves as accomplished wand-makers. Many of you here got own wands from her father. As the only daughter of the family, her memory will never be lost or devalued, and she will live in our hearts, as she will in the hearts of her family. Her parents have asked to hold their own, private funeral and tomorrow, our own remembrance will consist simply of adding her name to the school's hall of remembrance. This is accordance with the explicit wishes of her family". There was a final pause before Dumbledore continued, his voice still dark and sober in contrast to his normal attitude of almost insulting detachment.

"Hogwarts has endured loss before, and that is exactly what we will do again. Endure. But this day will forever hold a terrible significance to all of us here who have witnessed today's events, and to all those who have lost a friend or loved one. If any of you are wondering what will happen to the quidditch tournament, I can share with you that we have decided to let the remaining matches finish, and will consider this match a victory for both Hufflepuff and Slytherin, worth 200 points to them both. Needless to say, there will be no rematch".

Harry, frankly, had not thought about it at all, and was mostly horrified that the Dursley's would be here any moment to try and drag him back home. Harry had decided that he would fight if they did come, and would not willingly give up his wand. He would rather face Azkaban and the unspecified horrors which Rowena Ravenclaw had placed within it, than willingly lay down his wand and go back to the Dursleys. But, of course, the Dursley's were not coming for him, and Harry worried for nothing as Dumbledore continued his speech.

"Earlier today, 13 attackers were killed by the combined effort of professors Snape and Shura. It is our belief that these men and women were either hired or sponsored by the Muscowian Security Corps, who seem to have taken objection to our esteemed defence professor teaching at Hogwarts. A formal diplomatic complaint has been lodged by the ministry of magic, which right now is considering an appropriate response. Those who were involved in planning the attack were tracked down and brought to justice by a team lead by Mad-Eye Moody". What was almost a cheer could be heard for a few seconds at the mention of that strange name, but Dumbledore brought it to silence with a simple gesture and continued.

"Life at Hogwarts will not change significantly. Some of the wards that had been removed after Voldemort was destroyed have been restored, and more comprehensive security measures will be put into place. This means that visits to Hogsmeade will, again, be cancelled for the foreseeable future, and that no student before their 5'th year can leave the school, even for Diagon Alley, without a teacher escorting them". A few students grumbled at this but were quickly silenced by the deadly stares of their classmates.

"For now, it is time to put an end to this matter. We will have our supper together, and reconnect as friends and classmates. For tonight, I ask that you all stay at your own tables while we eat, so each house can have time to readjust and settle". The food appeared on the tables and professors Shura and Snape turned to sit down. "I ask all of you, students and staff, to remember this. Hogwarts will prevail, as it always has. This school has never been closed, not even during the darkest times of the last war, and it never will be. We will make sure that you are safe at Hogwarts, no matter what enemies may threaten our gates". The speech, it seemed, was concluded and the ancient-looking wizard sat down, slowly, looking almost like his normal, silly self again as he started into his food.

Harry himself started to eat, and saw that few students at the Slytherin table talked or, indeed, did much except stare down into their plates. Far down the table there seemed to be a great cluster of girls, surrounding somebody who was crying openly. Harry quickly turned back to his own food and started to eat, eager to blot the horrible events from his mind. This was the first time that he had not relished in the food at Hogwarts, but for a child like Harry simply having warm food still provided more than a small comfort. He looked at the other tables, briefly, and found that the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw tables both had a cluster of mourning students similar to the one at the Slytherin table.

Harry also, unhappily, noticed that Hermione was sitting all by herself, on the edge of two groups of students and looked like she was reading even while she was eating. He sometimes wondered if she had any friends at all other than him, but for now, his mind turned away from that and back to the events of the day. Harry still did not understand. He didn't understand why they had killed his classmates.

To him, they had been strangers, who had no business coming to this school, to the one place in the world that he had, until today, considered safe. After today, Harry would never see Hogwarts as truly safe again, at least not the parts of it outside the chamber of secrets which he would, in the years to come, start to think of as 'his'. It made no sense to Harry that the attackers had killed his class-mates. Dumbledore had said that they were after professor Shura, and although he felt guilty for thinking that way at all, part of him wished they could have just killed her and left. Indiscriminately killing children was just in a category all of its own, different from the more human crime of murder.

Harry wondered if, perhaps, the attackers were simply not capable of fighting professor Shura directly at all. It had, after all, been her and professor Snape together, who had killed the invaders. Harry shuddered as he suddenly realized that, today, he had seen people die even if he didn't know it at the time. 13 people had died in front of his eyes, even if to him it seemed that they had simply disappeared in a quick, almost unnoticeable flash.

Death was a strange thing to ponder, especially for an 11 year old, and Harry pushed the fear and confusion from his mind. For now, he took solace in the fact that it had not been Hermione who had been struck by that oddly familiar green spell. Strangely, he found no comfort in knowing that it could have been much worse. 3 still seemed like 3 to many to him. Harry looked back to the cluster of girls who were still comforting someone who obviously had known Miles Bletchley, who earlier today had played quidditch with Harry. Harry wondered where the corpse was and then very, very quickly pushed that line of thoughts from his mind.

He had not noticed time passing and started as the food disappeared off of the tables. Harry soon followed his remaining classmates back to the dungeons, escorted by both professor Snape and all of the Slytherin prefects. Harry, for a change, felt safer as he saw professor Snape. It was very strange to think that this man, who to Harry both looked and seemed in every way as a petty, greasy little git, had killed people. Today. He certainly showed no sign of that. Harry almost thought about asking him, but thought better of it as soon as he remembered of all of his previous interactions with his head of house. No, even in the wake of tragedy, Potters and Snapes did not mix.

Once they had arrived in the dungeons, Snape had given a brief speech, which to Harry was so surprisingly out of character for the teacher that he could not help but listen. The speech was brief, but both soothing and respectful, and Harry had a vague feeling that the professor had not written it himself. A grown man who regularly bullied 11-year-olds did not use words like 'dearly beloved' and 'precious, eternal memories' on his own volition. Still, the speech was nice and the words seemed genuine enough, even coming from Snape's chapped lips.

It was then announced that classes would continue without interruption. After that, two students, neither of which Harry knew personally, were asked to follow professor Snape to his office. Harry never saw them again, and when he asked about them many months later he learned that their parents had withdrawn them from Hogwarts in response to the attack. Harry, himself, did not understand the reasoning behind that. Today had, if anything, been an object lesson in why mastering the secrets of magic was so important. In Harry's mind, the situation was very, very clear. The trained wizards had won, and the students had been defenceless.

Harry did not like to feel defenceless. Not one bit. Snape, even if he was a git, was clearly a very powerful wizard, that much was obvious. Suddenly, a quote flashed into his mind, from the Lord of The Rings, a book which Harry remembered very, very fondly as the only longer series he had ever been able to finish without interruption. He could not remember which character had said the words, but they were still burned into his mind. "Those who have no swords can still die upon them". There was more to it than that, but Harry had never been particularly good at memorizing things.

Nevertheless, he felt that the meaning behind those words was both clear and self-evident. He needed to learn to defend himself, and quickly. As soon as the thought came to him, he thought of the Chamber of Secrets. Somehow, he knew that this was a good place for him to look, and a good place for him to learn. Harry was surprised at how sure he was at that fact, but there it was, deep inside of him. That same, cold certainty that had led him to find the chamber in the first place. Harry wondered where the certainty was be coming from, but for now he had decided to not look a gift horse - or magical power - in the mouth.

He sighed as he realized he would not be able to go visit the chamber while the school was still on lock-down. Students were no longer allowed outside of their common rooms, and were to be escorted to and from classes. From what he had heard, this would last for at least a few days while the wards were tightened. Harry decided to work on his transfiguration homework, a topic where he was still woefully behind Hermione. He felt some small measure of satisfaction in knowing that Hermione, at least, would be denied access to the library for the duration of the lock-down. The Ravenclaw tower had its own library, of course, but it was not nearly as well stocked as the main Hogwarts library.

Harry finished his homework, but felt restless even as he lay down to sleep. It had been more than a week, now, since he had discovered the chamber, and still he had not returned there at all. It occurred to Harry that he owned a cloak of invisibility. But would he really dare to try and go out, tonight, on the day of the attack? Professor Snape had been pretty clear when he said said that any student caught outside of the Slytherin dungeons would be expelled, immediately. This time around, Harry had not heard anyone scoff at the warning, or make light of it, and he felt quite certain that his teacher was prepared to make good on the threat.

Harry almost decided to just go for it, but finally ended up just reading by the light of his wand for a few hours before turning back time and going to sleep. The next day, he attended the funerals of his classmates, which was held outside. Harry felt very out of place, as this was the very first formal ceremony of any kind he had ever attended. The Dursley's, certainly, had never brought him to a funeral or wedding, and had hardly ever allowed him to leave his cupboard on Dudley's birthdays except to cook their food.

The next few days were very uneventful, with the exception of the myriad of aurors who were now swarming outside the school, presumably working to improve the school's defences. Students were being kept inside at all times, and at dinner that night Dumbledore announced that all the wards were well in place and that the lock-down was now lifted. Harry was still feeling grim in the wake of the death which had struck the school, but now again had 3 things to look forward to: Quidditch practice, studying with Hermione in the library and going back to the chamber of secrets.

After dinner, Harry had planned to try and sneak off to go explore the chamber, but Hermione once again intercepted him before he could get away. "Hi, Harry!". He was surprised to hear Hermione sound excited, almost overjoyed, a departure from her normally composed demeanour. He smiled and returned her greeting, happy to see his friend again, but as the two walked to the library he could not help but notice that Hermione was tense, and kept looking over her shoulder. "What's wrong?", he asked, but she shrugged off his question.

Harry could not put his finger on what, exactly, was bothering her, and his attempts to pry the information from her did not result in anything except Hermione talking circles around him and turning the topic back to homework. Soon, she was bragging about finishing her third-year potions text-book, and when a slightly annoyed Harry said that he'd already finished it, she started to quiz him. They were still walking like that, Hermione asking him questions and Harry doing his best to answer, when the trouble started.

Harry heard a the voice of a girl from behind him, and Hermione instantly froze in the spot. "Ooooh, if it isn't the mud-blood and her booooooyfriend, the death-eater!". The tone was sarcastic, clearly taking pleasure in being mean, and Harry did instantly recognize the voice as the voices of a bully. He turned around, fast, not wanting to be ambushed and as he put his hand on his wand saw 3 girls that he didn't recognize standing close together, giving them scornful looks. To Harry's dismay, they also looked much older than him and Hermione, and were at least in their third year.

The girl, who Harry instantly recognized as the leader, laughed, but not in humour or or good. His blood was already boiling, and Hermione's pleading did nothing to calm him down. "Please, Harry... Lets just go, lets just ignore them". Harry shook his head. "Go away", he tried, and sounded much braver than he felt. The girls just laughed. "Or what, you'll kill us? Torture us? Not likely". The girl looked confident and Harry unhappily noticed that she, too, had her hand on her wand. This was bad.

Hermione tugged on his arm, but Harry ignored her. "No, but I'll make you regret it". He glanced Hermione, briefly, and when he saw that she was chocking back tears, a dark, boiling anger unlike any Harry had ever felt swelled up inside him. The girl just laughed and continued her rant. "What are you going to do, Potter, tell your mum on us?". Without hesitation, Harry drew his wand, stepped forward and yelled loudly enough to startle even the 3 older bullies. "YOU LEAVE HER OUT OF THIS!". His wand was pointed straight in the head girl's face face, but before he could think of how to proceed, the girl raised her own wand with surprising speed and flicked it at him.

Harry's legs instantly turned to jelly and he fell backwards, landing hard on the floor, sending pangs of sharp pain through his spine and tail-bone. At this, Hermione cried out in a shrill voice, barely keeping her composure at all. "Leave him alone! He hasn't done anything to you, so just leave him alone! It's me you want!". This did nothing to calm Harry's anger, even as the now very intense pain dulled it somewhat. The girl, being a bully, only saw Hermione's desperate plea as encouragement to escalate, and with a spell Harry did not recognize send him flying into the air, dangling from his ankles.

A coldness washed over Harry, and he looked the girl right in the eye. "Put me down, slowly, or I will make you regret it". Something in his voice scared her, because for a moment she looked unsure of herself. This, however did not last long and instead of putting him down slowly she released him suddenly with another flip of his wand, sending him crashing to the ground. "I'd like to see you try, Potter", she dared, and the coldness inside Harry urged him to oblige her as he slowly rose to his feet.

He smiled, now, and felt proud of himself. He was finally standing up to a bully, even if it wasn't Dudley. "Last warning". His voice was cold and confident, and again the girl's eyed showed brief hesitation before she raised her wand to cast another spell. This time Harry was prepared and dived off to the side, ignoring the pain which still flared through his back. The girl's spell missed him, and Harry cast his own spell, Expelliarmus, hoping to at least get her wand away from her.

One of the other girls, who until now had just watched, saw the attack coming and hit Harry with a 'Rictumsempra', which made him double over in chocked, panicked laughter as he his body was filled with what he supposed could be called 'tickling', but was more accurately described as torture. Harry dropped his wand on the floor and doubled over in laughter, trying to will himself to get back up, to pick the wand up, to no avail. Hermione shrieked as the lead bully hit her with a spell, and Harry's blood boiled. He could barely breathe through the frantic laughter, but he had to help his friend. He just had to.

He reached for his wand and as soon as he touched it the spell was broken, its power over him bursting like a bubble. In Harry's mind, he heard a familiar voice, the voice of his wand, which had promised him power back at Ollivanders. Trust me, the wand said. Harry did just that, reacting purely on instinct. He flicked his wand at the girl who had hit him with the tickling spell, which sent her flying even if Harry had not intoned a spell at all.

Harry did not know about wandless magic and didn't care. To him, Hermione was all he cared about as he turned his wand to the head bully and intoned a spell, the words to which rose up from some secret place in his heart which knew secrets his conscious self was not privy to. His voice was cold, cold enough that it would echo through Hermione's nightmares for the rest of the year. "Morus!". He put his anger and his malice behind the spell and a thin, silvery thread flew from his wand, moving from side to side almost like a snake moving through grass.

The girl reacted fast, diving out of the way of the spell, but it didn't save her. Just before the spell would have flown past her, it turned and hit her in the ribs, just below her arm. The girl instantly girl dropped her wand and screamed, a sound so genuinely full of pain and anguish that Harry immediately regretted what he had done. He struggled to try and remember what the spell did, and where he had learned it, but his mind drew a hopeless blank. The girl thrashed and kicked, and started pulling and tearing at her robe. Her two companions were stunned into inaction as the girl started yelling at them to "get them off of me", and Harry took his brief chance.

Before they could react, he had hit the two other bullies with a body-binding charm, and they fell over, slowly, stiff as boards. Harry turned to Hermione, intending to grab her and run, but the tears and anger he saw on her face made him stop in his tracks. "Stop it, Harry! Release her!". Her voice was almost panicked, and Harry's stomach dropped as he realized he did not know how. The girl's screams, by now, were hoarse as she struggled for breath through her sobs, still tearing at her rope and hair.

Harry looked at her, and tried to will his wand to tell him the counter-spell, or to cast it, but nothing happened. Hermione shot him a look of disappointment, and Harry felt a stab of anger directed as his friend as she rushed to the side of her bully and stared casting spells, medical spells by the sound of it. Harry had only been trying to help, and the girls had attacked them first, anyway. Harry had every right to defend himself. But his anger melted away as he turned to look at the girl who still on the floor, holding small chunks of her own hair.

To his growing horror, Harry saw that the girl's skin was now covered in small, red welts, many of which were bleeding since the bully was clawing and scratching at them. Hermione eventually managed to find a spell that seemed to help, and although it did not make the welts go away, the girl now started to at least slow down her breathing, soon getting herself back under control. Snot and tears covered her face, and Harry's no longer felt proud of what he had done.

Hermione was comforting her, talking to her in a soothing voice, as the girl slowly came back to reality. Harry heard Hermione use the girl's name, Reba, and this made her snap out of her almost trance-like state. The first thing she did with her clarity new-found was push Hermione to the floor. "Get off of me, mud-blood!". She looked at Harry and, with fear in her eyes, got up and fled down the corridor. Harry no longer felt bad for the girl at all, and even felt proud of himself as he looked at the two other bullies, who were still paralyzed on the floor in front of him. Before Harry could truly enjoy the fruits of his labour, he shot a glance to Hermione, who was looking behind him with her peculiar blank-yet-attentive look which could only mean one thing. Namely that a teacher was standing right behind him. With a sigh, he turned around and came face-to-face with a furious-looking professor McGonagall.


	22. Chapter 22

For what seemed almost an eternity, McGonagall stared at Harry with what seemed, to him at least, an excessive amount of contempt. Then she started talking and Harry cringed at the tone of her voice, which seemed to shake from anger or some other, unknown emotion. "Mister Potter... You will come with me, at once. As for you, Miss Granger...". She turned to look at Hermione, who seemed to almost physically shrink. "I am very disappointed in you. Now come along, both of you". Harry sighed inside himself as the teacher herded them both towards some unknown punishment after curing the two paralyzed girls and telling them to go get "Reba" - who Harry assumed was the head bully - and take her to the hospital wing.

Soon, Harry and Hermione were being led down a particularly dark corridor, towards a towering statue which stood in an alcove. The statue seemed to be of a giant bird, which would have looked almost like an eagle if not for its surprisingly human-like face. Harry had never been in this particular corridor, having travelled by floo the one and only time he had visited the headmaster's office. In his mind, the great bird looked like a horrible omen, and it began to dawn on Harry that he could be in a lot of trouble. Would they expel him and send him back home to the Dursley's?

At this though, his anger flared up again. He had only been defending himself! They had no right to expel him, it's not like he had started the conflict. He started to speak, wanting to raise his objections with professor McGonagall, but she cut him off before he could do more than mumble. They now stood in front of the statue and McGonagall intoned, in a loud and clear voice, "Cockroach Clusters". Harry was confused, but before he could wonder what she meant by that, the eyes of the tremendous bird flashed with a red light and started to turn with a dry, rumbling sound. It twisted and slowly ascended upwards, ever upwards into the alcove, which in front of Harry's eyes seemed to melt and twist around the statue and form a tall staircase where before there had only been a stone ceiling.

Professor McGonagall herded them inside and up the stairs, and soon the 3 of them were standing in front of a great, ornate door. Harry at this point almost considered turning around and running back down the stairs. To his surprise, Hermione spoke up. "Professor McGonagall?". A small nod from the teacher let her know it was okay to ask a question. "Harry didn't, that is, we didn't... I mean, they attacked us", she tried. The old transfiguration mistress, however, was not placated. "Whether that is true or not, miss Granger, we do not curse other students. You, of all students, should have known to simply come get me, or to talk to professor Flitwick". Hermione turned very, very red at this words, and when Harry tried to speak up and defend her, he was cut off by a gesture from McGonagall.

"Enough out of the two of you. The headmaster will decide what is to be done". She looked at Harry, with eyes that betrayed an almost frightening amount of distaste. "And you... Potter. I thought we had finished with this conversation already. It seems you did not learn your lesson about cursing other students last time". Harry flushed as well, but with anger rather than embarrassment like Hermione. They had cursed him first. They had attacked him, first. Was he supposed to just stand there and take it?

Before he could consider complaining, the great door slid open and revealed the somewhat familiar interior of Dumbledore's office. Professor McGonagall herded them inside, and soon they stood in front of the headmaster, who was sitting at his desk and starting intently at what looked to Harry like a small, grey rock. There was a long, awkward silence before the headmaster turned to look first at Hermione, and then at McGonagall. To Harry's growing frustration, the headmaster still did not look at him.

McGonagall broke the awkward silence. "Headmaster Dumbledore... I caught these two students cursing older students. Potter", she gestured to him, "used a curse I very much doubt professor Shura taught him". She was silent for a little while. "This is the second time Potter has been caught cursing other students, Headmaster. And this time, he defeated 3 fourth-years". At this last sentence, her voice was almost fearful and Harry felt throughoutly confused. Sure, he had won, but only barely. And why did the professor sound scared? It was so unlike her. But before his thoughts could lead anywhere fruitful, the transfiguration mistress continued.

"You must step in, Albus. You must do, well, something. To prevent things from getting... worse". There was a strange tone in her voice, very strange, and Harry couldn't recognize it. Hermione slowly raised her hand, and before McGonagall could force it back down, Dumbledore acknowledged her. "Yes, miss Granger?". She suddenly looked like she regretted her decision, and even though she soldiered on her voice betrayed her insecurity. "Headmaster... it wasn't Harry's fault, really, they were after me, and he was just trying to defend me".

Hermione was blushing and looked throughoutly humiliated. Harry didn't understand. Of course he had tried to help her. She was his friend, wasn't she? He could hardly just watch her get bullied and not stand up for her. The headmaster just nodded like this explained everything. "We can't have students cursing each other in the corridors, regardless of circumstance. To make sure that you both remember this lesson, I will give you both two weeks of detention with Hagrid. That will be all, professor". The old witch almost looked like she was going to cry for a moment, giving Harry a brief, and very strange, look before accepting the headmaster's ruling. To Harry, it increasingly felt like McGonagall was afraid of him, even if he could not understand why.

"As you wish, headmaster". Soon, she had finished telling Harry and Hermione when they were due for their detention, which was Harry's second and Hermione's very first. As soon as they were on their own, Hermione turned to Harry and looked furious. "Look at what you did, Harry. Now I have... detention!". She stumbled on the last word, like detention was the worst possible thing that could have happened to her. Harry was torn between annoyance and pride that Hermione had stood up to a teacher and his voice betrayed his own, growing frustration. "I helped you, Hermione, that's what I did. McGonagall and Dumbledore had no business punishing us at all. They should be punishing the bullies".

Hermione just looked at him with very sad eyes and shook her head very slowly, her anger having melted away and having been replaced with what looked, to Harry's annoyance, almost like pity. "Oh Harry... are you saying the teachers are wrong? They wouldn't punish us if we hadn't done anything bad. You need to learn to trust adults". That was too much for Harry and he finally lost his temper. "You don't know ANYTHING, Hermione, do you? Not all adults are fair, and they aren't just... automatically right. That's the first stupid thing I've ever heard you say".

Hermione gave him a very searching look, but no longer seemed upset. "I'm sorry, Harry", she tried, but it was clear she was not ready to let the topic rest. "I don't mean all adults, you know. But these are teachers, and not just any teachers, either. They are teachers at Hogwarts, and most of them have taught here for much longer than we've been alive". Her tone was lecturing now and Harry couldn't take much more of this. "Oh, just stop, Hermione". Her stern look did not deter him. "McGonagall just has it out for me for some reason, and Dumbledore won't even look at me. He just ignores me every time we're in the same room".

Harry at first felt satisfied at Hermione's confused look, because it meant he had noticed something she hadn't, but his satisfaction quickly turned to guilt. She was still his best friend, after all. Maybe even his only friend, since he was still not sure if Draco counted. Hermione's voice was timid now, like she worried that Harry might raise his again. "Harry... I'm sure he doesn't mean anything by it. Does he do it all the time?". Harry nodded in confirmation and Hermione fell silent. Harry felt a little spiteful, but managed to bite back an unpleasant remark. "Look, Hermione... just please trust me on this, okay? Not all adults care about kids. At all. And some of the ones that do still won't listen and still are incapable of understanding, because they think they know better all the time, no matter what".

Hermione's look was suddenly filled with understanding. "Yea... I know, Harry. I'm sorry". It seemed that Hermione was no stranger to adults talking down to her, and Harry had a brief impulse to open up to Hermione, to tell her about the Dursleys and all the horrible things he had suffered at their hands. But he know trying to talk about it would make him cry and he didn't want to look weak in front of Hermione, so he nodded, hoping to end the conversation. "Hermione... lets just do our detention, and then have it over with, okay? If you just pretend to agree with their decision they'll feel vindicated, or something, and they'll think they got their way". She agreed, and soon the two kids were back to talking about their homework.

This seemed to remind her of something. "Oh, right. Harry... where did you learn that spell? Morus, was it? It's not in any of our defence textbooks". Her voice was a little bit accusatory on this last note and Harry suddenly felt like he was walking on dangerous ground. But where had he learned that spell? Harry did not remember reading about it and he certainly hadn't practised it. He settled for a shrug. "I'm not sure, actually. I must have just picked it up somewhere". His friend was still suspicious, that much was obvious, but Harry was genuinely not sure and the stubborn girl found no angle to interrogate him by. "If you say so, Harry", was the end of that conversation and Harry was much happier for it.

The two friends ended up studying together for a few hours before bedtime approached, and while they would both use their time turners and gain 5 more hours, it was still necessary for them to make an appearance in their dorms so other students did not start to wonder where they were. Harry was, for a change, happy to see Hermione leave, partly because she had been asking him uncomfortable questions, but mostly because he knew exactly what he was going to do with the rest of his night. He was going to visit the chamber of secrets again.

Soon, he sat in his bed, and spun the hour-glass of his time-turner once, twice, 5 times. The lights grew bright, and the curtain around his bed moved almost furiously, and Harry knew it was now 5 hours earlier. He pulled the cloak of invisibility from a pocket in his robe and once again admired the softness of the fabric as well as its clearly magical ability to fit in his pocket without showing a bulge. Harry Potter smiled, softly, as he sat on his own and admired one of the only valuable things he had ever owned.

He slipped on the cloak and decided to take a stroll around the common rooms before sneaking off to the chamber. The students were getting ready for the dinner Harry had already intended, and what little Harry overheard as he spied on his classmates was not very interesting. Still, something about being invisible, watching people who didn't know they were being watched, made him feel safe. Powerful. A much older student almost collided with Harry, throwing a suspicious look in Harry's direction as he moved quickly to avoid a collision, stepping down harder than he had intended to, but the crisis was averted as the other just shrugged and continued with his business.

Harry waited for someone to leave the dungeon and slipped out of the door, heading back to the corridor where he had entered the chamber last. He ran his hand over the stone wall, and found it no different from other walls. And yet, he knew that this was where the entrance was. He took out his wand and panicked a little as he found he did not remember the exact combination to enter. After a few tries, however, he found a rhythm inside himself and let it guide him. At the final tap of his wand, the bricks again started to move, opening up into the dark.

For a moment, Harry thought that abyss that promised to lead him into the chamber looked like the hungry mouth of some nightmarish creature, waiting to swallow him up. With a deep breath he gathered his courage and plunged into the deep darkness, this time landing in the great, round hall that had taken him so long to finally enter last time. He smiled, happy not to have to repeat his ordeal with the doors and passwords. Harry walked alongside the walls, taking his time to inspect every little detail this time. As he passed a few fireplaces he remembered his one and only voyage by floo and wondered if it was possible for him to enter the chamber like that.

A lot of the arches in the great chamber seemed like they should serve some sort of function, but Harry found them little more than alcoves. He didn't care much, really, and hurried onward until he arrived at the smooth pair of black double doors that were visibly at the centre of the circle. They had no handles or keyholes, and above them were very simple engravings. "Up" and "down". To Harry, they almost looked like elevators, and he decided to try and open the one labelled 'up'. As soon as he touched the door, the room flashed briefly and harry stepped back with a gasp. Before he really processed that experience, he was forced to turn around by the realization that the room had changed around him. Instead of standing in the round entrance hall, he was now standing in a vast library which seemed to be at least the size of the one where he and Hermione normally studied. He looked back to the doors, which had not opened or changed in the least.

Of course a magical elevator wouldn't work the same as a muggle one, but Harry had still not expected that. Apparition was, after all, to him still a concept only found in books. He touched the 'down' door, just to verify that it worked, and found himself back in the entrance hall. Happy to know that he was at least not trapped, he returned to the library. The rows of shelves were towering, more than 4 times his height, and although there was not a trace of dust anywhere, Harry still felt that this place was ancient and at least mostly undisturbed.

The entire room felt very familiar, somehow, but Harry ignored the feelings of Deja Vu that he now associated with the chamber itself. He started to walk down the isles and admired the myriad of books. He wandered through the great library for at least an hour, picking random titles off of the shelves and building a mental map of the different sections. Harry wondered if the library search spell he and Hermione had practised so diligently would work here and raked his mind for something appropriate.

Suddenly, he remembered the note that had accompanied his cloak of invisibility and his mind was made up. As he intoned the spell, "Scientia Digerend", there was only one topic in his mind - the deathly hallows. Whoever had left him the note had talked as if it was obvious that he would know about them, and he did not intend to be ignorant forever. To his disappointment, though, he found that the spell only indicated two books to him, in wildly different sections. After a brief walk to investigate, he found that one was a children's book called 'The Tales of Beedle the Bard' while the other was a mere pamphlet entitled "Deathly Hallows - fact or fiction?".

Harry sighed but decided to at least read the pamphlet, bringing it over to one of the study tables in the majestic library. As he sat down, he looked out at the ocean of books and felt a little guilty for not bringing Hermione, who would obviously have loved this place. Instead of dwell on the guilt, though, he read the pamphlet. The Deathly Hallows, it claimed, were mythical artifacts, supposedly given by death himself to 3 brothers who had escaped him. Harry was intrigued to find that one of them was described as a cloak of invisibility. The story went that the cloak was torn from the one worn by death himself and could hide the wearer even from the grim reaper.

Still, he was happy to have learned what a Deathly Hallow was, even if it was just a story told to children. Perhaps that is why his unknown benefactor had assumed he knew about them, as the text heavily implied that this was as story as famous amongst wizards as Hansel and Grettel would have been to muggles... or those raised by muggles like himself. He wondered why Dumbledore would be interested in what sounded like it was just a children's story, but it wasn't like the headmaster had made much sense in the past. Why start now?

Having finished the pamphlet, Harry decided to explore the library more throughoutly. It was round, like the entrance hall, but seemed to be much larger. Harry, for a second, was confused about this, wondering how the tower would make any sense if the levels were not the same size, but then he remembered that it was magic. He also found that somebody had been here before, and had left books sprinkled all over the place. As Harry went through the books he grew curious, as they all seemed to centre on one topic. Souls, life and death. It was a very morbid topic, but also something that had always fascinated Harry and had been increasingly on his mind since he had learned that ghosts were real.

Other than the books that had been left on tables around the library, Harry didn't see any signs of life. He felt very exposed as his footsteps echoed in the silent halls of Slytherin's library, but tried his best not to worry about it. He was still invisible, after all. Harry smiled as he remembered that fact. He was invisible. How often hadn't he wished for a power like that when he was hiding from Dudley or Vernon? Often, that was for sure, and now the power was his, for real. Harry suddenly felt a strange impulse as he walked past another bookshelf and stopped in his track. His eyes went to a small, battered book with no distinctive features.

The book did not particularly stand out from the others, and Harry could have spent years in the library without as much as looking at it, especially considering that every wizard worth his or her salt knew at least one library search spell. And yet, it was somehow obvious to Harry that the book was important. Very important. He pulled it from the shelf and found that it was bound in simple brown leather and had no title. As Harry opened it up, the strange but now almost familiar sensation of Deja Vu was back.

Harry opened it up and found that it was empty, except for an almost fadded scripple on the first page. "Tom Riddle's Diary". Of course it was empty, he told himself. If this was really the diary of a wizard, it would be enchanted so that nobody else could read what was written within. Harry tried a the only spell he thought might help, "specialis revelio", but that had absolutely no visible effect. Just as he was about to close the diary, it grew heavier in his hand. Before Harry's eyes, words slowly formed like they were being written with a quill. "Hello. It is not very nice to try and read someone else's diary, now, is it? You could at least introduce yourself, first". The words disappeared after Harry had read them, seeming almost to melt into the book.

Harry frowned. Introduce himself? To a book? How would that even be done? It occurred to him that he could use a quill and also that pens and quills were available on every desk throughout the library. Harry decided that it was worth a try. Perhaps the diary had a password he would be able to guess. Soon, he sat down with the diary and wrote "hi" in his unpractised script, eager to see if anything would happen. It did. Soon, another message appeared. "That's better. I'm Tom, but I'm sure you already know that. What's your name?". Harry felt strange writing telling a book his name but decided it couldn't do any harm. "I'm Harry Potter. Nice to meet you, Tom". The letters melted away into the book and there was a brief pause before the answer appeared.

"Hello, Harry Potter. It's very nice to meet you. I have been stuck here for a very long time, or at least, it feels like a very long time. What year is it?". Harry wrote '1991', and the diary seemed to think about that for a while. "Thank you. It has been long, then, but not as long as I feared. Do you mind if I ask where you found me?". Harry thought about that for a little. It was awfully strange for a book to ask him so many questions and Harry decided it was about time he asked some of his own. "No, you can ask. But if you want me to answer, you'll have to tell me how come you can talk".

There was silence, but it was brief. "I assume you are a Slytherin, Harry. Very well. I can talk because I am magic, of course. I am an image, a copy if you will, which my original self put into this book". Harry, for his part, considered that good enough. "I found you in the chamber of secrets, on a shelf. How did you know I was Slytherin?". This time there was no delay. "I know because you wanted something in return for answering a polite question, that's why. I'm Slytherin too, or was, so don't be too offended. And that's good to know. It means I haven't been moved. Good job in finding the chamber, Harry. Most Slytherins don't even think to look".

Harry frowned. "I didn't think to look, actually", he wrote. "I just sort of acted on instinct". This made the book fall silent once again. Harry almost worried that no answer would come at all, and had lifted his pen to ask another question when the answer came. "Curious. But if you found it, you are worthy of finding it. That's just how the chamber works. Have you been here long? What year are you in? I have so many questions. It has been awfully long since I talked to anyone". Harry answered the questions, but decided to ask a few of his own. "Tom, are you really a person? If I closed you, would you still be alive? And what happened to the wizard who created you?".

The reply came slowly, with long pauses between each sentence. "I think I am. I am aware of my own existence, and I experience the passage of time. I can think and talk, as you can see. I have been waiting here an awfully long time, Harry. Waiting for someone to open me and to write in me. If you close me, I sleep, or at least I enter a sleep-like state. I dream, but I am aware that I am dreaming, which makes things boring in the long run. As for what happened to the real me, I don't know. Perhaps you could find out and tell me? I am sure that I vent on to do great things. I created me, after all. Haha".

Harry liked Tom, whoever he was, and decided to bring the book with him back to the dorm. Writing to someone instead of talking was a very interesting feeling, and Harry found that it let him consider his words more carefully. He didn't feel as clumsy and awkward as he sometimes did talking to people face to face. Before Hogwarts, Dudley had never allowed anyone to make friends with Harry, and he hadn't had a chance to develop many social skills. Harry was desperate for more friends, and that fact allowed Tom Riddle's diary to take Harry by the hand and lead him straight into the trap it intended to set for him.


	23. Chapter 23

A/N: I am aware that things do, in fact, escape from black holes. Hawking radiation, I believe. But Harry has no idea about things like that.

-

It was the next day, after classes, and Harry and Hermione were both headed towards Hagrid's cabin, where their detention was to take place for the next two weeks. While Hermione looked downcast, still upset that she had gotten a detention in the first place, Harry was just happy that he was allowed to have detention with Hagrid. He shuddered as he thought of his long, long detention with Ron and Draco, where the 3 of them had all earned cuts, burns and blisters in preparing Snape's various, horrible potions ingredients.

Compared to detention with Snape, serving it with Hagrid would be a walk in the park. Or so Harry reasoned, anyway. It was just before dark and so the two students were allowed to walk there on their own, happily chatting. Hermione was complaining about her own work, talking about how she expected to get a sub-perfect mark for her potions essay even if she had made it perfect and Harry found it difficult to be sympathetic. He had, on multiple occasions, tried to tell the bushy-haired girl not to worry so much about her grades, but it seemed to be no use. Either way, it was very clear that Hermione's fanatic devotion to her school-work was paying off. She had earned more points for Ravenclaw than anyone else, even the older students, and Harry imagined that didn't exactly make her life easier.

Still, it was clear that Hermione was brilliant, and Harry was quite happy to be her friend. He was growing increasingly frustrated with his continuing inability to upstage her in spite of trying his very hardest, but he hoped that, at least, his access to the chamber of secrets would give him an edge in defence class. As he thought of the chamber, he felt another pang of guilt. If Hermione did not even know about the chamber, was their competition fair at all? But he reasoned that since the Ravenclaw tower had its own private library, whereas the Slytherin dungeon did not, this was only an equalizer and not a cheat.

Harry thought of Tom Riddle's diary and wondered, not for the first time, if he should tell Hermione about it. He was still not sure if the girl could keep a secret. She was hard to understand, that one, that much was for sure. Harry had spaced out and a now irate looking Hermione was giving him a telling look. "Well?", she asked, and Harry was forced to admit he was not listening. She sighed, long and deep, before repeating herself. "Well, Harry, I was saying that this is actually a good opportunity for us to practice, at least if Hagrid sets us to work in the forest". Harry nodded in halfhearted agreement, but before Hermione could take out her increasing frustration on him they arrived to see Hagrid standing in front of the cabin with a huge lantern.

The giant gave them a wide smile as they approached. "There ye are! 's 'bout time, once its dark out yeh'll have more trouble". Hagrid pointed to a pile of what looked like huge sticks, all painted bright red. "Yeh'll be placin' these 'round the forest, wherever ye see animal tracks. We use these t' keep track of our herds, 'specially the unicorns". Hermione lit up at this a little bit. "Oh, unicorns? Do you think we will get to see some, Hagrid?". While Hagrid explained that it was possible but unlikely, Harry had another concern on his mind, thinking of a book he had once read. "Hagrid... isn't there supposed to be werewolves in the forest?".

Hagrid just laughed, which left Harry feeling rather insulted. "Sure there is, Harry, but don' yeh worry 'bout it a bit. Look up!". Hagrid pointed to the moon, which wasn't full, and Harry felt embarrassed at his own forgetfulness. Fortunately, neither Hagrid or Hermione seemed inclined to pick on him, and soon Hagrid had brought out his humongous dog, Fang, in preparation for going into the forest proper. He gave the two of them a look. "Yeh'd best take fang with yeh, nothing in the forest will bother yeh if he's there, but of course, he's a bit of coward, so don' rely on 'im too much". Now it was Hermione's turn to look worried. "Aren't you coming with us?"

Hagrid shook his head. "Course I'm not, otherwise there'd be no point to bringin' yeh along. Yeh'll be covering the South side, and I'll work in the North. But don't yeh worry too much, like I said, there's no full moon, is there? So that means no werewolves". He sounded as if this meant they would be perfectly safe, but somehow Harry did not feel entirely reassured. Still, he supposed that he and Hermione together would be able to stave off most creatures, and soon they were walking into the forest together, each levitating half of the poles in front of them. It was only natural that the two talked and solidified their friendship even further.

They had planted about half of the poles, talking happily about their dreams for the future, when something suddenly occurred to Harry. He looked out into the forest and felt unsafe. "Hey, uhm, Hermione?". Until then, neither of the two kids had been scared, taking turns lifting the poles or illuminating the forest. She gave him a questioning look, and Harry could easily tell that she, too, was uneasy. Something was wrong. "The school just got attacked. Very recently. Is it really safe for us to just wander out into the woods? Where are the aurors?". Hermione rolled her eyes, and to Harry's surprise her tone was almost mocking. "The forest is part of the school's grounds, Harry. The aurors are maintaining the enchantments and watching the perimeters of Hogwarts's grounds, not of the lawn in front of the castle".

Hermione had never spoken to Harry like that before. Condescendingly. Harry almost made a biting, sarcastic remark, filled with anger and scorn, but before their friendship could be injured a sound in the forest demanded both of the children's attention. It was a wet, cracking sound, like something huge and slimy stepping on a rotten log. Harry gave Hermione another look, pulling his wand when he saw she had done so already. "Hey, uhm, Hermione... Do you feel that?". She nodded. They both looked into the dark from which emanated a feeling of tangible, pure evil. Hermione gasped, and as Harry followed her eye he saw a dark, fluttering shadow slither in between some trees before disappearing back into the darkness. They both turned, instinctively, and ran in the other direction.

But it was no use. There was another one of the creatures standing there, and as Harry turned, he saw that there was even more in the darkness. All approaching them, in a great circle. They all seemed to float towards them. For a second he thought about asking them what they wanted, but the answer was self-evident. They wanted him. They wanted to feed. Harry looked around, searching for escape. It was completely hopeless. He raised his wand and cast the most horrible spell he knew, "Morus", the spell he still did not know where he had learned. As he cast it, he realized what it did. The spell would cause the victim to experience horrible hallucinations of insects crawling all over them and biting at their eyes, ears and other soft, tender parts. It also inflicted some actual damage, causing the victim's skin to suffer boils and cuts, even beyond the damage the victim would do clawing at their own skin.

But the spell had to be cast with malice, and Harry found that he could not summon any from within himself. There were so many, after all. Too many. His spell was a dud, and the creatures of pure blackness moved closer. Black holes. When Harry was younger, he had learned about the concept of a black hole. A place in the universe which was almost like a tear, an area where reality itself had simply given up. A place that was dark, and from which nothing ever escaped. Which pulled things into itself, forever seeking to consume all of the universes, to undo all that had been done. They had featured in his nightmares. Dark, black voids, from which it was impossible to escape.

He fell to his knees as the creatures came even further. Where would he run? He thought of his cloak of invisibility, but that, too, was futile. The dark figures had now formed a circle around him and Hermione, who had now given up as well. He had heard the girl casting her spells, but had known it was useless. Magic could not defeat the darkness. The darkness always came. Eventually, it always came. Life was naught but foam on the ocean, a pointless expression created only by imbalance in the endless dark beneath. The creatures were now right in front of them, ever approaching slowly. Harry lay down and was not comfortable. The end would come to him, now. He would never become a wizard.

He would never be strong, never again live, never again laugh. This was the end of everything that mattered. One of the shadows had leaned down over him and when he looked into the darkness beneath it cloak he saw something which would hurt somewhere deep in his soul until the day that he died. In that moment, Harry Potter abandoned life. He resigned himself to death, or to whatever hell lay beyond the veil of those dirty, tattered cloaks. In that moment, Harry did not spare a thought for his friend Hermione. He did not even spare a thought for himself. To Harry, the very idea that happiness might again one day exist in the world was absurd. Salvation was not even a dream. The darkness had won, and the end had come.

But as he felt himself falling, falling deep into the cold, bottomless oceans of death, something changed. There was a spark on the horizon. A small, brief light. Harry looked at it, and as he did, he felt that his descent ended. The light grew in intensity, and Harry felt himself move closer to it. It couldn't possible be... rescue, could it? The concept seemed almost ridiculous. Harry had fallen into the darkness, and now he could not be saved. And yet, the light grew brighter. Harry blinked against it, and found that the shadows were moving up and away from him, slowly, almost like in a movie. The light grew brighter yet on the horizon and now the shadow moved away from Harry, once again hiding the terrible secret which lay beneath its dark cloak.

The light flew over Harry, chasing away the shadows, and Harry sat up automatically and tried to focus on the light. What to Harry had first seemed only a small, white blotch in on the far horizon was now shining in front of them both in its full glory. Harry's heart soared with joy as he saw Hermione sit besides him, unharmed, also staring at the creature in front of them. He had seen that she was crying and found that so was he. It was the most beautiful thing Harry had ever seen. Before them both stood a white unicorn, larger than any horse and seeming impossibly white, illuminating the forest with a beautiful light that shone from its great, twisted horn. The creature radiated both gentleness and authority.

It chased away the last of the infernal shadows, seeming to almost float rather than do anything as clumsy as walk or run. Soon it had brought light to all the parts of Harry's heart that had been drowning in the utter darkness, and he did not feel weird or embarrassed as Hermione took his hand. Together they watched the unicorn, which walked slowly towards the two children. Although the creature was absolutely tremendous, massive in a way no living breed of horse could aspire to, it was graceful and radiant, a true beacon of beauty. It leaned down towards them both, and they happily let it nuzzle them both before it stood back up.

The creature lifted it head, and the soft, calming sound that flew through the forest could hardly be compared to the whinny of a horse. The sound was best compared to beautiful music, although Harry had never heard anything to compare. The creature started to leave, and although Harry wished it would stay he did not feel sad at its fast, graceful departure. He knew, on some instinctual level, that the unicorn would hunt the shadows and drive them back to the pits which had spawned them. Once it had left, Harry smiled as he noticed it had not left even a footprint on the soft forest floor. Harry levitated one of their signal-poles with his wand and slowly lowered it into the ground, near to the spot where the unicorn had stood as it touched them.

It was a small memorial, but Harry was fond of it nevertheless. Something beautiful had happened here. Hermione looked at him, and in spite of her question still seemed the spitting image of calm and joy. "Harry, what do you think those creatures were? The ones... before, I mean". Hermione waved her hand at 'before' as if it would be obvious to Harry what she meant. It was, and as Harry answered he was also smiling, still thinking of the unicorn. "Monsters, of course. Boogie-men". This should have been scary, but it was not. The soothing effect of the unicorn was fading, but had not yet disappeared.

Neither of them were alarmed as multiple people ran towards them with drawn wands. They let go of each others hands, and Harry saw that Hermione was blushing a little. The moment of pure tranquility was over, but the afterglow of the unicorn was still present in both of their hearts. One of the strangers, a man, was now standing in front of them, still with his wand drawn, looking rather frantic. "What on Earth are you kids doing here? Are the dementors gone?". Hermione answered before Harry could say anything. "Yea, they're gone alright". The man put his wand away.

"What on Earth are you two doing in the middle of the forest so late?". His look was distinctly suspicious, and there was something strange in his tone which Harry did not recognize. Harry was tired of being interrogated and being treated as a villain. "We're just taking a moonlight stroll, what does it look like?". The auror was in no mood to deal with Harry's sarcasm and turned to Hermione who immediately answered. "We have detention and have to place these posts wherever we see animal tracks", indicating to the pile where the posts had landed. Harry sighed.

The interrogation, however, was far from over. "What happened? Did you see the dementors?". Harry shuddered. "Yea... we saw them alright. More than saw them". Harry thought of those last moments before the Unicorn had saved them. He thought of the darkness, and shuddered. In that moment, Harry had given up. He had been cold, lonely and hurt, and to him, the idea that there might be such a thing as sunshine was impossible. He thought that death had come, and eventually he had given in and accepted it. He shuddered, again, and was happy to find that Hermione was silent for once.

"They almost had us, and then the Unicorn came". Harry felt better at the memory of the unicorns, but the memory of the dementors was not gone. He didn't shudder, but he still felt very cold. "It saved us, I think. Brought us back. And then it chased after the dementors". Harry smiled, now, finally feeling mostly back to normal again. "It chased them away". The idea that such a creature existed, which hated the evil of the dementors enough to chase those dark horrors, warmed Harry in some injured part of his soul.

The auror continued to ask him questions about the experience until Harry finally grew tired and refused to answer anything more. Hermione still hadn't talked after first explaining herself to the auror. Now Harry wanted answers of his own, from this one auror who had not chased after the dementors. "What the bloody hell where those monsters? Dementors? I heard that once, Hermione, where did I hear that?". Hermione was uncharacteristically monotone when she replied. "The dementors guard Azkaban, Harry. The wizard prison". Harry felt cold. "Wait, not... the wizard prison, right? You do mean a special, restricted part or something. Right?"

Harry was not getting the idea. Not yet. It would come to him, soon, and when it did, the anger would come too. Hermione shook her head and the auror looked both confused and uncomfortable. "No, they guard all of Azkaban. Why?". Harry still did not speak as the possibility of the truth began to slowly dawn on him. "They don't do that... thing, do they? That horrible thing that they do?". Hermione answered, fast, her voice even more quiet than before. "They do, actually, Harry. Dementors eat happy thoughts the way we eat food. A wizard nurtures their magic by eating and resting, a dementor by stealing happy thoughts away from people". To Harry, it sounded like Hermione was reciting from a text-book, but the horror was evident in her voice regardless.

Harry just started as the auror thought it wise to speak. "Hey, people don't get sent to Azkaban for nothing, you know. It's necessary. There's no other way to rob a wizard of their magic. We don't know any other prisons that can hold powerful wizards". Hermione spoke again, but now her voice was louder and her usual, bossy know-it-all-ism was back. "They do, actually. And you know it! Nurmengard. There's Nurmengard".

Harry remembered. "Yes, there is Nurmengard". His outrage was now flaring like fiendfyre, fast and uncontrollable. "What are they doing in the forest? Can we destroy them?". The idea that these creatures was allowed near to human beings was unfathomable to him. The auror sounded upset at having to explain something normal and obvious to a child. "These people are knights of Walpurgis! Death-Eaters! Aren't you Harry Potter?". Harry was annoyed at, once again, being recognized and being at a disadvantage. "If you didn't introduce yourself, I don't have to either".

Harry finally took the time to take a good look at the auror. He was tall and had a slightly absent look in his eyes. As he introduced himself, Harry was sure he didn't like him. "I'm Auror John Dawlish, if you must know. And the dementors are just guarding the perimeter of the school. Don't worry, they can't break the wards and get to this part of the forest. We made sure". It took him almost a full two seconds to realize. "Well... someone must have brought down the wards". He gave them another suspicious look. "Was it you lot?", and that was enough to send Harry over the edge.

"NO! We didn't bloody want to be attacked by monsters! Now piss off and go chase them, isn't that supposed to be your job?" The auror very much looked like he wasn't going to take that from an 11-year-old but Harry drew his wand which made the auror jump. Harry noticed, with annoyance, that the auror had did not even touch his wand. Harry resumed levitating the poles. "We are going back to the school, so just go take care of your business". He left in the stunned silence that followed, broken only by Hermione's own "Wingardium Leviosa" and then her hurried footsteps as she caught up to Harry.

They walked in silence for a few minutes, back towards the school, both uneasy about the dark surrounding them. Hermione was the first to speak. "Harry, I know what you're thinking, you know". Before Harry could reply she proved that she was right. "You're thinking that they're all insane for letting something like Azkaban exist. That they're evil. But I don't think that's true, Harry... I think they're just wrong. And I think the difference is important". Both of the children, having been exposed to the dementors, were in such perfect agreement that Azkaban was an abomination that they did not even need to say so out loud.

Harry shook his head. "Nothing is worth that, Hermione. Their stupidity is no excuse. You must know... did anyone even try to stop this? To change it?". Harry had heard that Azkaban had been established long ago, and that it's system was an irremovable part of magical Britain due to ancient treaties, but surely someone must have seen Azkaban for the unforgivable abomination that it truly was. Hermione reluctantly answered. "There was only one person recently, actually, Harry". She hesitated and Harry stopped, demanding the answer with his eyes. "Gellert Grindelwald", she said.

Harry felt cold. Gellert Grindelwald was said to be the most evil dark wizard after Voldemort, wasn't he? Hermione seemed to be in a rush to explain. "Oh but it's not what you think, Harry. Grindelwald was evil. Really evil, Harry. He killed hundreds of people himself, and his followers killed even more. Muggles and wizards, Harry. Grindelwald wanted to put an end to the statute of secrecy!" Harry frowned. "Yea, and so what? Maybe muggles do deserve to know if monsters like those exist. Do they affect muggles?" Hermione was growing less and less comfortable with every word her friend spoke.

"Well, yes they do". Harry could see the half-truth in her words.

"And?"

"Well... and muggles can't see them. They are know to regularly pray on muggles when wizards are not available. But, Harry, the statue of secrecy can't be allowed to end. It's the only way for muggles to live without being dominated by magic-users."

This, however, was too much for Harry who needed to put the whole situation from his mind. They ended up walking in silence until they arrived back at Hagrid's hut. There were very few words exchanged as Harry returned to his bed. That night, a new nightmare started which would not leave him until the day that he died. It was the worst dream Harry had ever had, worse than the one where Voldemort murdered his mother in a horrible blaze of green light.

Harry dreamt that he had become one of the dementors. He did not feel malice, but rather felt only the empty pain of having completely abandoned hope and life. He drifted towards joy and life like a moth towards flame. Even as his horrible dream-self consumed the souls, hopes and smiles of the innocent, he felt nothing but despair.


	24. Chapter 24

The next day, Harry was rudely awakened by a furious-looking Severus Snape and Harry's first thought was a simple oh no. His head of house ordered him to get dressed, and soon a tired and grumpy Harry was following him out through the common rooms, where several students were curiously watching them. They thought that Harry was in trouble yet again, and Harry was inclined to agree with them. Snape did not talk as they walked, and Harry decided to once again be thankful for small blessings.

Soon, they arrived at a corridor which Harry recognized as the one that hid the entrance to the headmaster's office and now Harry started to get a little nervous. He was thinking of his encounter with the auror from last night and wondering if he was in trouble. Seeing that Hermione was there along with professor Flitwick, her own head of house, did not make Harry any less nervous. Other than worry, though, another emotion was flaring strongly within Harry. Anger.

Harry was tired of being blamed for things that were not his fault. That had been his life at the Dursley's, and there he had accepted it because there was no way for it to be different. But this was the wizarding world, where things were supposed to be better. Or at least he had thought so before he knew about things like Azkaban. Harry again shuddered involuntarily, and if Snape noticed, he did not say anything.

Soon they were both led into the headmaster's office, and Harry was determined to stand up for himself. His anger, however, melted away for now as he saw that the headmaster look at him with nothing but worry and concern. The old man was pacing in place and had clearly been waiting for them. As soon as Harry and Hermione arrived, he met them and shook their hands. To Harry's happy surprise, Dumbledore looked him in the eyes, once, before looking away. To Harry, it seemed almost as if the old wizard remembered something he had momentarily forgotten.

When the headmaster started talking, it was not the lecture Harry had expected. "Harry, I am please to see that you are alright. I am so sorry about the terrible events of last night. Tell me, did anyone help you when you returned from the forest? Did you receive chocolate, or anything else?". This was not what Harry had expected and it took him a moment to compose himself. When he replied in the negative, he saw that that everyone around him seemed horrified.

To his surprise, this included Snape. "Well", Harry said, "not really, no. But it's fine, really. I got some sleep". He failed to suppressed a shudder and to his displeasure this seemed to confirm whatever the teachers present were thinking. Harry's confusion was not helped by the fact that it was Snape who spoke up first. "It's an outrage, Albus! These aurors of yours let one of my Slytherins just go back to bed? After being so directly exposed to dementors?".

Dumbledore turned to Hermione, but his voice made it clear she was not his primary concern. "Miss Granger, you on the other hand received chocolate and the gift of companionship from some of your classmates, is that not correct?". Her reply, in the affirmative, was timid. Dumbledore had looked at her only briefly. To his annoyance, Harry found that everyone was looking at him, with the exception of Dumbledore who had now resumed his act of acting like Harry was not there even while talking to him.

Snape again surprised Harry by addressing him directly. His voice was devoid of its normal icy resentment. "Potter, did you have any dreams last night? After the attack? It is of the utmost importance that you tell me". Harry had no intention of sharing his dreams with Hermione and the teachers both, but after trying to avoid the question it was made clear to him that evasion was not an option.

Harry explained about his dream, briefly, and a shadow went over Dumbledore's face as soon as Harry mentioned that in the dream he had found himself becoming one of the dementors. Even Snape looked taken aback, and it was a while before anyone spoke. "So it's as we feared, then". It was Dumbledore who spoke, in a voice which showed a sadness Harry had only otherwise heard during his speech after the attack on the Quidditch game.

Snape and Dumbledore argued for several minutes, with Snape - once again to Harry's surprise - demanding that Harry should press charges against the ministry of magic for allowing this to happen, whatever it was, and Dumbledore arguing for a more conciliatory policy. Harry had enough of being ignored and decided to demand some answers. "What happened? Don't ignore me, tell me what happened!". Snape seemed like he had almost reprimanded Harry for taking such a tone with his elders, but something in Harry's voice made him think better of it.

Dumbledore seemed tired and suddenly not simply old, but ancient. Grief was visible in his eyes as he spoke. "I'm afraid, Harry, that the dementor managed to steal away a part of you, however small". The headmaster let the words sink in before continuing. "As Miss Granger told her head of house, the dementors had already started, well, feeding because it was banished". Harry did not understand, but the headmaster anticipated his confusion and continued to explain. "It is a miracle that you are still intact, Harry. No doubt this is because of your ability to love and to hope".

Harry was vaguely annoyed by Dumbledore's choice of words, and for a while did not interrupt as the old man explained that the dementor had stolen away a tiny part of Harry's soul. To his further terror, Harry also learned that this meant a new dementor would have been born from that soul-fragment. Finally, Dumbledore asked a question he had clearly meant to ask for a while. "Harry, there is something I can do to help. But it cannot be undone. Right now, the dementor which was born from the the lost fragment is connected to you. It will most likely seek you out, sooner or later. Unless we sever the connection".

Before Harry could ask for elaboration, Snape talked again and this time he sounded outraged. "You can't possibly! It's madness, Albus, absolute madness. What if something goes wrong? Knowing you I very much doubt you have experience manipulating souls. I forbid it, as his head of house I forbid it!". Dumbledore did not seem the least affected by the potions master's outburst, and simply continued his explanation.

"Harry, you have a choice to make. We can either leave the situation as it is, in which case the dementor will have a connection to you, however small. This gives us the hope that, one day, you might be able to repair the damage. While most never do, it has happened before, and your soul is, of course, unusually resilient". The headmaster hesitated before continuing, and some unknown emotion in his voice made Harry feel extremely uneasy.

"Or, I can sever the connection. Forever. While this would mean a tiny part of your soul would be lost to you, it would also allowed you to live a life free of the terrible influence of the dementor which was born last night". Harry did not answer, because he found himself completely unable to speak. This was not just unexpected, it was so horrible that Harry could not have thought it up in his darkest moments or most horrible nightmares.

Once he recovered, his mind was filled with white-hot anger, directed at the people who had allowed this to happen. "So let me get this straight. You lot not only thought that it was a brilliant idea to allow these soul-socking monstrosities to guard the school, you sent us out into the forest to serve our detention, knowing that they were around?". Harry's outburst seemed to put an end to Snape's sympathy for him.

"Enough, Potter. You have no right to act with such arrogance. We are doing our very best to help you, and to get to the bottom of this incident. Something out of the ordinary allowed the dementors to penetrate the wards which were specifically set to keep them out". Harry just snorted.

"Yea, good job with those anti-dementor wards". Before Snape could build himself up into a fit of rage, Dumbledore raised a hand to his trusted advisor before answering Harry, still avoiding his gaze.

"Harry, the matter is unfortunately out of our hands. As it happens, I don't enjoy having dementors so close to my students. If I had a choice, I would not have let them anywhere near the grounds. But the ministry insisted".

If they thought this would placate Harry, they were mistaken. "Speaking of the ministry, who is the absolute tosser who decided to let those abominations guard Azkaban? A prison where, if I'm not mistaken, people get sent for even relatively small crimes?". Snape had fallen silent and only shot Dumbledore an emotionless look. The old man sighed and walked over to his desk, indicating to Harry that he should take a seat in front of him. Harry did not obey, and eventually Dumbledore talked in spite of his disobedience.

"It is a very old prison, Harry. It was, in fact, created by Rowena Ravenclaw, who you doubtless played a crucial role in the foundation of Hogwarts". Dumbledore paused, but only briefly. "As for the dementors, their presence at the prison is explained by a combination of necessity and ancient philosophy. You see, Rowena believed that suffering purified the soul". The sense of weariness in Dumbledore's voice sated some of Harry's anger - but not all of it. It seemed that maybe he did occasionally spare a thought for those interred there. "She believed that this purification would prevent wizards from re-offending, and further, she also believed that even those who died there, close to the dementors, would be benefited by the suffering they inflict because they would enter the afterlife with purified souls".

The rage started to boil inside Harry again as the headmaster continued to explain. "You see, Harry, certain crimes damage the very soul, the cardinal one being murder. The only way to repair a soul so damaged by murder is to truly regret your actions. Such true regret is impossible to most, even those who are not twisted enough to kill. It goes beyond simple regret. The murderer must understand the full extent of the pain which they have caused".

Harry was flabbergasted. Were they really torturing people because of some religious wizarding understanding of the soul? Harry did not find a better word that 'torture' for what the dementors did to people, but it clearly went far beyond pain and suffering of any normal kind. He was surprised to suddenly remember that Hermione was in the room and had not said a thing. When he looked at her, she looked flushed and extremely uncomfortable. He suspected that she worried he was going to blow a fuse.

"You're crazy", Harry said in a voice that was too adult for his age. "That must be the only explanation. You are all completely insane and that's why you accept this as normal". This proved to be too much for Snape, who looked like he wanted to beat some sense into Harry more than anything else. Harry was surprised to find he was not intimidated and met his teacher's eye without flinching.

"You insolent child!", Snape said, his voice once again betraying an uncharacteristic amount of emotion that beyond scorn. "You think you know better than all of wizarding society? That your fancy is more important than centuries of tradition? There is no alternative to Azkaban, Potter, and besides you should not so easily dismiss the benefit of this kind of prison. What would you know about souls?". Harry did not know anything about souls, but before anyone else could speak Hermione spoke up.

"With all due respect, professor, what about Nurmengard?". At this, headmaster Dumbledore tensed for a brief second. It was almost unnoticeable, but Harry caught it regardless, well practised at reading Uncle Vernon's body language. Snape was silent, leaving it to Dumbledore to answer. "Nurmengard has other evils, Miss Granger, that you do not know about. As I am sure you must know, there was another before your time who had ideas similar to the ones you are voicing now. His name was Gellert Grindelwald".

Harry thought about that for a little while. His history books had said that Grindelwald had carried out unspeakable experiments, many of them on unwitting muggles interred in the Nazi concentration camp. Other than that, Harry knew very little about the legendary dark wizard. Harry tried to make eye-contact with Dumbledore, but again found to his annoyance that the old wizard made sure it was impossible. This became too much for Harry, who was unaware that voicing his annoyance annoyance at this allowed the matter of Azkaban to be pushed to the side.

"And that's another thing. Why aren't you looking at me? You look at everybody else, what's so wrong with me?". Harry's anger was not helped by a sound from Snape which sounded halfway between a snort and a chuckle.

"You little fool. Headmaster Dumbledore has been showing you a courtesy, and you are showing only a lack of tact and gratitude in return. He is avoiding your gaze because he does not want you to suspect him of using legilimency on you until you become an occlumens. Otherwise it would be impossible for the two of you to discuss things in confidence. Personally I do not think you have the necessary discipline to become an occlumens, but headmaster Dumbledore has decided, against my advice, to trust in your abilities".

Harry heard no small amount of spite in his teacher's voice, but his anger was slowly being chocked by embarrassment. There were more things he wanted to know, but having snapped at Dumbledore who had a seemingly good reason for his behaviour made him feel ashamed of himself. It did not help that 3 teachers and his best friend were all staring at him. The old headmaster immediately seized the opportunity to end the bickering.

"Harry, I think that is enough for now. If you ever want me to sever your connection to the dementors, you can visit my office and I will make the necessary arrangements. If you want to understand more about wizarding philosophy, perhaps you can ask Miss Granger? I understand that she is a most accomplished student, and I am sure she can find you some texts which elaborate more on these matters. Try to understand, Harry, that old and wise as I may be, I am not all powerful. Even should I desire to change Azkaban, I do not have the power".

And that, apparently, was the end of the conversation. Dumbledore promised to investigate the intrusion of the dementors beyond the wards, and soon Harry and Hermione was gently shooed from the headmaster's office. Flitwick and Snape both remained behind. Harry and Hermione walked in silence for what seemed like an eternity. Harry was leading the way, but had no particular destination in mind, allowing himself to wander the castle in exact contradiction to the advice of his prefects who had called it a stupid way to get lost and little more.

Hermione was the first to break the silence. "Harry, you can't judge them just on this. They might not know what the dementors are like". Harry just rolled his eyes.

"If that's the case, Dumbledore needs to stop pretending to be so wise".

"He is wise, Harry. He's the most powerful living wizard, you know". Hermione's tone was lecturing and Harry shot her annoyed look. "Sorry", she said, softly. But she was not done talking. "All I'm saying, Harry, is that he has been around for a long time and he has seen a lot of things. What if he's right about the whole soul thing? What if understanding your crime truly does allow your soul to heal? All I'm saying is we don't know for sure, Harry, so you shouldn't make up your mind yet".

But Harry had already made up his mind. Dumbledore was nuts if he thought letting dementors near to people was okay. If he could be casual about something so terrible, Harry could and would not trust any part of the man's moral compass. Harry and Hermione ended up talking about trivial things and homework until they finally found a part of the castle they recognized. Harry excused himself as quick as he could and returned to the Slytherin dorms. He spent most of his time there brooding.

Before going to bed, Harry resolved to learn more about Grindelwald, who could not be all bad if he had worked to create an alternative to Azkaban. Harry remembered quite clearly that Grindelwald was still alive, locked up in Nurmengard. Tomorrow the Slytherins had a double session of defence shared with the Ravenclaws, and Harry was looking forward to it. It was the first defence class since the attack on Hogwarts, and rumours in the Slytherin dungeons held that professor Shura would elaborate on her relationship to the attackers.

When class started, however, Harry found that they were not to be so lucky. Professor Shura seemed to have no intention of indulging questions, and instead announced the creation of a duelling club, which would allow students to practice defence on a more practical level. This was great news to Harry, who had a strong preference for the practical over the theoretical. By now Harry was considered an excellent student by all of his teachers, which grades that almost - but not quite - rivalled Hermione's. He had learned to enjoy studying, finding magic itself to be fascinating, but that had not always been the case.

Indeed, without his rivalry with Hermione, Harry suspected he would not have ended up reading nearly as much as he did. Harry had tried to bring a book outside the chamber of secrets, so he could read it at his leisure, but had found that when he touched the black doors he had come to think of as 'elevators' the book had not followed him. Returning, he found that it was back on the shelf where Harry had originally picked it up. Harry had asked Tom, who confirmed that this was part of the nature of the chamber.

Harry had also mentioned to Tom - casually - that he was considering telling his friend about the chamber, and the diary had laughed in its neat, old-fashioned script. "That's impossible", Tom had told him. "Slytherin's chamber of secrets is for Slytherin students only. Not only are you - having found it - bound to keep its from non-Slytherins, you will also be unable to reveal it to the unworthy. It is called the chamber of secrets, after all, not the chamber of sharing. And keep in mind, Harry, that you are the first to find the chamber in 50 years". Harry had wanted to ask Tom more about himself, but had found that more trivial matters occupied his attention.

Such as defence class. Harry had been one of the first to volunteer for duelling class and was subsequently enraptured as professor Shura addressed the attack in her own, matter-of-fact way. First, she discussed the curse which had killed 3 of Harry's classmates. It was known, popularly, as the "killing curse", and Harry shuddered when she pointed out that Harry was the only person ever known to have survived it. She did not share with them the words to the spell, saying that the British Ministry forbade such things.

Rather, she decided to elaborate on various ways to defend oneself from the killing curse. She had said that the only good defence against the curse was to kill whoever intended to cast it on you. Barring this, she advised students to duck, dodge, or hide behind a magical object. A non-enchanted object, she warned them, would not offer any protection at all, and the spell would travel through unimpeded. Any magical object hit by the spell would be destroyed, and she warned them that some objects might explode and still kill the person hiding behind them.

All in all, she said that the best way to avoid getting hit by the spell was to always cast the first spell. She said that in a true magical duel, there was no such thing as rules or honour. Then she did something remarkable, which would be the topic of gossip around the school for weeks to come. She placed a small series of stone pensive in the centre of the lecture-hall and had then put her wand to her own head and drawn out a strange, silvering thread which she let fall into the first pensive. The whispering amongst most students let Harry know that those raised by wizards understood exactly what was happening.

She tapped her wand on the other pensives, the liquid in each which had before been invisible to Harry turning brightly silver, with an appearance of whirling clouds beneath the surface. She then instructed each student to come up to the front one by one and stick their heads into the pensives. Hermione, who of course knew exactly what this was, whispered in Harry's ear to share the knowledge that this was a memory pensive. She added that professor Shura would probably be showing them one of her own memories, which left Harry tremendously excited. Not much was known about professor Shura, let alone the secretive and elite Muscowian Security Corps, and this was a very rare opportunity

Soon it was Harry turn, and although he was nervous, he did not want to hesitate in front of his class-mates. Slytherins rarely forgot such things, and there was a rather large amount of bullies to in his house. Harry stepped up and ducked his face into the pensive, as he had seen other students do.

As soon as his skin broke the surface of the water, Harry fell into the darkness. He landed on a gravelly path in a city different from any he had ever seen. He guessed that it must be somewhere in the Muscowian Empire, which more or less overlapped with the European parts of the muggle Soviet Union. The first thing he saw was a younger-looking professor Shura. She was still small and mousy, but her uniform made her look distinctly dangerous. She was wearing a bright, crimson rope which looked similar - but not identical - to the one worn by the terrorists who had attacked the first Quidditch match.

There was a knife or short sword of some sort on a belt at her hip, and a wand in addition to the one in her hand on her other. A bandoleer of bottles with various potions Harry could not identify was slung over her chest. Unlike her normally strict but impassive look, Harry found that professor Shura looked both attentive and carefully neutral, in a strange mixture of emotion. She was listening to a man talk, and although Harry was aware that the words were not in English he somehow understood them anyway.

"I want to hit them fast and hard so they don't have time to hide anything or destroy evidence. Don't hesitate to kill, but a prisoner or two would be useful. Mednev, you go in via the roof and make they don't put up wards or barricades, Shura, you go in through the front door. Any questions?". They all simultaneously replied with "No commander!" and then the operation was underway. Harry was surprised to find that Shura - or at least her younger self - could run at least twice as fast as himself, seeming to constantly sprint without any trouble.

At first, Harry tried to run to keep up, but when he found that he would automatically drift alongside Shura, to whom the memory belonged, he stopped trying. Uneasily, Harry noticed that the world seemed to simply end some distance behind Shura, in those places where she did not look. This seemed logical enough but was still unsettling, and Harry made sure not to let himself move too far away from her. He hoped they wouldn't let students do anything too dangerous in classes, but you never knew about Hogwarts which in spite of having far less dead students than other schools of magic still could not boast of a perfect record, even if one did not account for the recent attacks.

Soon, the squad lead by Shura arrived at a large collection of apartment buildings which seemed to form a complex of sort. A small fence did not even slow Shura down, and when Harry looked he noticed witches and wizards dressed in similar crimson robes land on the roof, apparently letting their brooms fly off on their own. A witch, standing in front of one of the apartment buildings, turned around to look at Shura with alarm, and Harry had barely noticed the witch move her hand towards her wand before a green flash of light flew of Shura's own, sending the witch crumbling to the floor like a rag-doll.

With a sinking feeling, Harry was certain that not only was she dead, but the spell was that horrible one so familiar to him. The words to the spell, unlike conversation, seemed to be muffled and Harry assumed Shura had done this to avoid teaching such dark magic to children. Soon the entire squad was gathered in front of the door leading into the stairway of one of the boring, grey concrete apartment buildings and Shura was, once again, the first to raise her wand, bringing down the door in a silent explosion. Her squad ran inside and went door-to-door, searching for their target, whoever the poor souls were.

Harry tried to look around, but found that he was bound to follow Shura, who seemed to be going straight for the top floor. In spite of running the entire flight of stairs, she did not seem winded at all and Harry began to suspect that this went a little beyond mere physical conditioning. Presumably it had something to do with the one empty potion in her bandoleer. Soon, they were standing at a door that did not open immediately even at Shura's command. Behind his now-teacher stood a young man, who Harry thought could be no more than 15, dressed in crimson robes similar to Shura's.

The door flew open, and Shura rushed inside. Harry followed close by, watching the action with interest, when a young girl of no more than 12 appeared in a door-way. Shura hesitated for just a moment, and cried out "Drop your wand!" in the language that Harry somehow still understood. Instead of complying, the girl raised her wand at Shura, who dived out of the way and hit the girl with her own spell. As the girl fell to the floor, stunned, Harry heard another thud behind him and saw that the member of the squad which had accompanied Shura was dead.

A woman screamed and rushed to the fallen young girl, but Shura hit her with another green-tinted spell without hesitation. The memory ended as the last of the woman's screams faded and Harry came to with a gasp. After adjusting to the lights, he followed a signal from the older - and now significantly more scary - professor Shura to go stand with the other students who had already seen the memory. Harry found that Hermione was particularly pale and tried to offer her a few words of comfort, only to find that they had no effect. Soon, every student had been through the ordeal and they were ordered back to their seats, ashen-faced and silent.

When everyone was seated, professor Shura started to talk. "I know you are all wondering what the point of what was. I am also quite aware that many of you will hate me after seeing what I have done. Let me be very clear: There is no excuse for what I did. What I have shown you is very far from the worst I have done while working for the Corp. Very far indeed. But I believe it was necessary. Tell me, did anyone here consider the girl a threat when they first saw her?".

Nobody, not even Draco, raised their hands. "I thought not", she said. "The young man who was with me was my younger brother. My father, who is head of the Security Corps, had insisted I bright him along. During this mission, my hesitation cost his life". Her voice had not changed, but the professor took a moment to compose herself. "A real battle is nothing like the duels you will all be having later today and for the rest of the semester. In real battles things are decided in mere seconds as you saw. 14 people died that day, only 2 from the Corp. When somebody pulls a wand, there is no time to hesitate. The lesson for today is that magical duels are not funny and that they are not to be taken lightly. People die, and it happens faster than you expect. Much faster".

The lecture continued for only a little while longer, and then the students were dismissed for their break, seemingly with two exceptions. "Harry Potter and Hermione Granger are to remain behind", the professor said, and Harry unhappily complied.


	25. Chapter 25

Harry and Hermione were the last two students in class. Everyone else had gotten a 30-minute break, during which to rest, eat, play or do homework. Harry and Hermione, however, were detained. Harry had not directly interacted with professor Shura at all, and rumour in the Slytherin dungeon was that so had nobody else. She had never called anyone else to stay behind after class, and Harry knew the whispering amongst Slytherins had already started by the time students left. Some of the students might even owls their fathers.

Sometimes, Harry really did wish he had accepted being sorted into Hufflepuff. The hat had said that he would make friends in Hufflepuff, but it seemed that in Slytherin he had not. He was on regular speakings terms with Draco, Theodore Nott, Blaise Zabini and the members of the quidditch team, but other than that most people seemed to just mind their classes and stay in their cliques. What was worse, of course, was that there was always at least one kid staring at him or at his scar. Harry was getting awfully sick of people starting at his scar.

Yes, someone had tried to kill him as a baby. It was amazing, and apparently unheard of, that he was alive in spite of having been hit with the killing curse. Harry thought he ought to know the words to that spell, actually. Maybe he could ask professor Shura. He would forget, but he didn't know that yet. The doors to the lecture hall closed after the last student and professor Shura directed them to sit down. Two stools similar to her own had appeared. Suddenly, the mousy woman looked very tired, and much older. Harry had never thought her to be older than 40 when he'd seen her from a distance, but looking at her up close she age truly showed.

She was covered in scars, as well, some of which looked like Harry's. Bright, red, linear and inflamed. Harry's was famously of a lightening bolt, and it had never fully healed. Harry had always been prone to headaches, and had even passed out frequently as a child. Harry wondered how much of that had to do with the Dursley and how much with Voldemort. Hermione looked like she was about to die, and Harry wondered if she knew that nobody else had talked privately to Shura except teachers. Shura spoke first.

"Harry Potter. Hermione Granger. I am not happy to hear that you have met dementors yesterday". Her accent was more clear that usual when she talked without magical enhancement. She paused, but not enough to allowed them to speak. "Harry Potter, I have heard from Albus Dumbledore what happened". He almost felt mad that Dumbledore was sharing this with all the teachers, but Shura did not allow him to dwell on it. "My condolences. I am in a situation similar to yours. Can you both keep a secret? Are either of you occlumens?".

They both shook their heads and she sighed. "That is unfortunate. In this country, they do not teach very much to children. In that case I have some other arrangements, but we will take care of that after. This is what happened to me, which caused me to defect. That I met a dementor and that it took a part of me into myself". She paused and then addressed Hermione. "Hermione Granger, I do not know if you understand the evil of the dementors. I understood that you resisted without loosing a part of yourself, but I do not understand if you truly understand the evil of the dementors. If they touched you, truly touched you, you will understand".

Hermione shuddered and her eyes went vacant, and Harry suddenly, horrifyingly, became aware that she had been touched. Because Harry understood exactly what Shura meant. When the dementor had touched him, truly touched him by putting its hand, or whatever that was, on his chest as it floated atop him, when it assumed control of him, that was the worst moment of Harry's life. Harry himself shuddered and begged somewhere deep in the remaining parts of his soul that he would never have another experience like it.

An experience that had caused damage to his actual soul could not quite be compared to any other. Harry knew that he would never be able to forget the moment of that touch. Because at that moment, Harry had understood that dementors were the true evil, as no wizard could ever aspire to be. He had understood that they were death and malice incarnate, and that there was no destiny worse than being caught by one. When caught by a dementor, there truly was no hope of escape, even deep in your hearth, as death came to you. If such a thing could be called death.

Death, being touched by a dementor was not. As Harry had learned and Hermione confirmed, dementors stole parts of you into themselves and used them to create their spawn. Dumbledore had said that a dementor had been born from a part of Harry's soul and Harry knew that Dumbledore was right. He could feel the dementor out there, somewhere, in the darkness. Harry looked at Hermione and understood two things. First, that Hermione understood that the dementors were truly evil and that there was no recourse but to rid the world of them. Second, that Hermione did not understand the injury of having had them go as far as truly touch your soul.

But Harry saw in Hermione's eyes that the dementor had touched her, as well. That it had begun to "kiss" her, as it was horrifyingly called. Harry wished, for a brief second, that he could remove his lips and his entire face. The parts that the dementor had touched felt dirty in a way he could not find words for. Professor Shura decided not to let either of them dwell on the memories any longer.

When she spoke she sounded almost lost in thought. Harry only barely recognized that it was intended for him and Hermione. "It is not normally done so young, but the patronus charm can be taught. Most do not have the motivation to learn the patronus charm because it is difficult. Very difficult. But it necessary for anyone who has been touched by a dementor at all. Or so I believe". She paused. "I do not agree with Azkaban, but it is better than what my country does when it comes to dementors. Would you be shocked to know that it took me 4 years after that to decide to defect, and 2 more years to carry out my plan? I have never spoken of that, but I suppose it does not matter now".

She paused. "You must both know that I am doomed in your role as teacher, yes?". Hermione nodded and Harry remembered hearing that Voldemort had cursed the position once a teacher Albus Dumbledore had instated had publicly insulted him and said that he had gotten the job Voldemort had been rejected for. It was also around this time, it seemed, that Voldemort had become "public enemy number one" instead of "a dark wizard in exile". Harry had read copies of the daily prophet from the nights of Voldemort's reign.

Harry had noticed two periods. One where Voldemort's atrocities and attacks were publicly debated like major news event, and one where normal news were brought with minor mentions of attacks by the Knights of Walpurgis. Around this time, the knights started to be referred to as "death-eaters". Today, that was the only term that was used. Being Slytherin, Harry had learned that "death-eater" was an older insult which referred to a kind of inbred pure-blood who lashes out at others. Voldemort had been dubbed the chief death eater, a slur that the Dark Lord had hated.

Slytherins normally did not use the term much in public except about those who had been caught and sent to Azkaban. Harry knew that this notoriously included Bellatrix Lestrange, the most powerful of Voldemort's followers, and Sirius Black, who was Harry's godfather. Sirius, he had learned, had betrayed Harry's parents. Nobody had told Harry about that, of course. He had found it in a book about his own life, which had shown a horribly inaccurate version of his childhood. It was said that he lived in the country-side, on a farm, with his kindly aunt and uncle who were befuddled by his curious wizarding ways.

In that time, there had been small drawings in the newspaper about how Harry Potter was confusing muggles by doing such amazing things as walking at the age of 1 or levitating small objects. Harry was occasionally used as a stand-in, in the form of a chubby baby with a lightening bolt scar, in various jokes about "evils" being defeated. Reading those old newspapers was the strangest and most infuriating experience Harry had ever had.

Harry's train of thought was derailed by Hermione. "Harry?". Once she got his attention she addressed professor Shura. "Professor, I have no doubt that Harry and I both accept. We both want to learn the charm from you". Hermione seemed like she had more to ask. "Professor Shura, Harry and I both have time turners".

Shura just nodded like this would be obvious. "Most young wizards who study seriously do".

Harry furrowed his brown. "Older wizards don't?"

Shura shook her head. "No, you age much faster using a time-turner. Most wizards live to be quite old, you know. Excessive use of a time turner will mean that your life span can only be compared to a muggle one, meaning about 70 or 80 years on the average if nothing kills you first". Shura apparently found this funny and laughed, with a surprisingly shrill and girlish voice that abruptly ended with her clearing her throat. "Sorry about that".

Hermione just nodded, giving the professor a strange look. "Why did you call us out in class? I thought you would want to avoid letting anyone know anything about you, considering your circumstances. Surely you would have wanted to avoid gossip. Why didn't you just wait for us to turn back time, even if you needed to talk to us here? Harry and I could have floo'd to the classroom and you would not have to tell the world that you decided to stop holding your tongue".

Shura did not look amused. "You ask too many questions. As a matter of fact I have indeed decided to break my silence. I wanted to speak to Harry Potter, and it is about time that I break my silence. I invited you as well because I know you were touched by the dementors, but I will not be questioned by some obstinate child". Hermione grew flush and Harry wondered what Hermione would do. She was normally quiet, but her temper was short when people talked down to her.

Shura, however, had no intention of letting Hermione start speaking. "In fact, everyone will be learning the patronus charm once we are done with duelling, but I decided to give you both a chance to learn it early, directly from me, considering that you had such a dreadful experience. You are the one who had to make this political, miss Granger. But it of no consequence, of course. I will have to take both your memories after class so they can't be taken from your minds by the journalists who will flock here when they learn I have broken my silence".

Harry could not stay silent at that. "Wait, journalists read people's minds?".

Now it was Harry's turn to earn an annoyed glance from Shura. "Of course they do. Does nobody teach anything at Hogwarts?". Shura rubbed her forehead. "I shall have to include that in my classes, as well. Either way, of course they do. Legilimency cannot be detected if performed by an expert. That is why occlumency is so important to everyone. But since neither of you are occlumens, we cannot speak freely at all. I would hope one of you decide to learn occlumency, but I'm afraid this conversation will go the way of the rest of your memories. The point is that you both will commit to learning the patronus charm from me. I will allowed the emotional impression of his conversation to remain, in the hopes that it will help you cope with the aftermath of meeting death and perhaps encourage you to study occlumency sometime".

She paused and Hermione almost looked like she was going to speak as Shura slowly reached for her wand, but it was Harry who objected. "Stop". Shura frowned and listened to him. "Can't we just learn occlumency? I don't want to loose my memories. I don't like the idea of you manipulating my mind". Harry did not remember his life as a young child very much at all, and the Dursley's were always telling him about horrible things he had supposedly done and laughing at him. Harry found it hard to tell them off when he had no memory to the contrary.

Shura shrugged. "You will not have time. I can give you at most 5 hours to practice and I very much doubt you can do it to my satisfaction. I will not ask you to resist me fully, but I will ask you to at least be able to resist intrusions on the level that a reporter would be capable of bringing to the table". She shook her head. "It is impossible. I could have obliviated you both before you would have been able to reach for your wands, but I decided not to. Perhaps I can one day give you these memories back fully, and then you will not forgive me if I simply assault you or deny you your chance. So, yes, I will give you 5 hours to practice. Should you so desire. But it is pointless, you mark my words. It is not enough time".

Hermione was more than up for the challenge. "Fine! 5 hours and I am sure that I can master it. I will need my books, I remember seeing a text on it. I will-". But before the irate Hermione could walk away to try and fetch her books Shura shook her head.

"No. First of all, you are foolish to think I will allow you to leave here with the words I have spoken still in your mind. You really are trying my patience. Further, that is not how occlumency is rehearsed. It can only be trained by resisting a serious intrusion from a legilimens. And as you will find I am quite adequately trained as both legilimens and occlumens. It took me several years to Master and I am more disciplined than you".

Hermione snorted. "I believe you will find I have a well-disciplined mind. In fact, I have already been training to resist legilimency and the Imperio curse".

Harry frowned. "You have?".

Hermione smiled, but it was a bitter smile. "I am muggle-born, Harry. That means some of your house-mates, in particular, do not like me. Some of which have access to their fathers ancient libraries. I will not be defenceless if someone tries to attack me and my family again".

It was Shura who caught. "Again?"

Hermione looked like she wanted to hold her tongue, but spoke regardless, her habit forcing her to answer a teacher promptly. "My family and I were harassed by several pure-bloods because we tried to pay in muggle money in a book-store. Nobody had told us how to convert into Galleons, or even that it was necessary. And it turns out that muggle money buys very, very little Gringotts Gold". Harry slowly allowed that to sink in.

"Hermione, are you saying that your family was harassed for trying to pay in a book-store?", he asked, slowly growing mad on behalf of his friend.

Harry could swear that he could see her eyes glaze over with tears for a second. "Yes. But the point is that I have practised. I will not be dismissed just because I am muggleborn". She gave professor Shura a look that was part sad and part furious.

Shura just shrugged. "If you wish. I have not really thought about this at all. Muggleborns as you call them are not allowed to live at all in the Empire. I have no idea how they are raised to be quite honest, and do not care to find out. If you think you can keep up with Harry Potter, you are welcome to try. Either way, I will start with you, Harry Potter".

Professor Shura looked him in the eyes, and suddenly a lightening bolt of pain shot through Harry's head. He screamed in pain as memories rushed past his eyes. He was distantly aware that Hermione was trying to tell him something, but the memory was too intense for him to truly notice her. It was the memory of Voldemort killing Lily Potter, his mother, and it had never been that intense before.

In the memory, he became Voldemort much like he had become the dementor in his dream on the night after the attack. Oddly, the two dreams were very similar, even if Harry preferred the absence of dementors to their presence. In the dream where he was Voldemort, Harry felt so horribly cold as he slid through the world. His voice had been twisted and alien, only barely human, sounding too fast and reptilian. When it spoke, it was casually indifferent, with a strange humour to it, seeming to find its own words amusing.

"Stand aside, you silly girl... stand aside now. You know well that the prophecy has marked him"

His mother had only screamed. "Not Harry, please no, take me, kill me instead -".

Voldemort had made a "tsk-tsk-tsk" noise, raising his wand and mockingly wagging his finger. The last words his mother ever said were "Not Harry! Please... have mercy... have mercy...". His mothers voice had been unconvinced, and faded sadly as Voldemort laughed, a shrill and truly inhuman sound. The last words Harry heard were those of the spell... and they were...

"Harry! Harry, wake up! Look at me!". Harry blinked. Hermione was shaking him, furiously. He was laying on the floor of the classroom. Hermione snapped a finger in front of his nose. "Hey. Look at me". He did and she almost poked him in the eye.

"Hey! What was what for?", Harry said as he sat up, absent-mindedly rubbing his throbbing scar.

Hermione looked reassured if not entirely. "I needed to see if you were awake. Are you okay, Harry?".

Shura grunted. "I already told you that he is fine. Stop fuzzing over him".

Hermione stood and gave the teacher an annoyed look. "When people fall over and start having a seizure like that it's not normal or responsible to just leave them to it".

Shura did not answer this and just looked Hermione in the eyes. Hermione stood for a few seconds, locking eyes with Shura, before she gasped and look away. "Y-you... you can't just...". Hermione looked throughoutly humiliated.

Shura's voice was mocking. "What, read your thoughts? Of course I can. I just did, didn't I? 4 and a half hours, by the way. And you will have no proof if someone claims that I did this to you, because that is how legilimency works. I could have taken the memory of you noticing me if i wnated. Reading your thoughts is easy, because your mind is undisciplined. Unless you can control your emotions, you have no hope to resist me. Stand up, Potter". Harry was still sitting but his brief respite was now cut short.

Shura gave him an entirely impassive look and talked. "Your injury is severe enough that you experience pain if I perform occlumency on you. How often do you experience pain in your scar?".

Harry was sure of his answer. "Every day around nighttime, but only for a second. More severely, a couple of times every month. Like just now, well, only a few times in my life to be honest". Shura just nodded like this was all self-evident before looking back to Hermione with visible distaste.

"See? I know what I am doing. I have similar scars on me and knew that exactly this would probably happen. Harry Potter flinched when I first tried to read his mind as he entered the crowd".

This caught Harry by surprise, by only a little. By now he was almost used to it. "I knew it! All those damn Slytherins kept claiming that teachers both could and did read the minds of their students".

This seemed to set off Hermione again. "You knew it? Knew that she was reading your mind? And you didn't tell anyone?"

Shura laughed, briefly, with genuine humour. "Telling anyone wouldn't have helped. Forget that that legilimency is undetectable when properly performed, did you? Well I'll tell you again so you don't forget. Properly performed legilimency is undetectable, because that's the whole point. It's not a memory charm. It is legilimency, an actual control of the mind. It is said that your so-called dark lord Tom's ability to control minds is so great he can give people new identities if they merely casually lock eyes with him. His ability in legilimency was legendary across the world, even if he was sorely lacking in other school of magic compared with more globally legendary characters like Master Merlin, who so famously created magical Britain in its current form ".

Hermione blushed, having for a change forgotten something. Harry was sure she was bursting to speak, but for now she held her tongue. That was new to Harry as well. That Merlin created magical Britain. Harry had heard that the government of magical Britain had existed before Merlin, but that its control was just limited to roughly the muggle territories of England and Cornwall. Harry had not heard about any supposed "creation" of that Government in the period of Merlin. Come to think of it, Harry had heard very little about Merlin except that he was great, famous and Slytherin.

Harry did not have time to dwell on Merlin, and practice continued. While Hermione seemed to have very little success, Harry found that the burning pain in his scar gave him something to focus on, and a clear warning whenever he came under attack. After a few hours of practising in a back room, with Hermione looking like she might keel over, Harry found another one of those cold, confident places within himself. As Shura turned to him to try her legilimens yet again, Harry surprisingly found himself prepared.

Shura could perform legilimency without wand or word, but Harry still noticed the begining of her spell. It was something in how she tensed her lips. And this time, he pushed back as she tried to move inside his mind, acting on an instinct that did not quite seem to stem from anything Harry was conscious off. An array of images flashed before Harry's eyes, most seemingly harmless. A little girl unwrapping a present. A great military parade in a city Harry thought must be Moscow. Fireworks. And then the bad memories started coming. Days spent in a cold, dark cell. a battle where Harry (or was it Shura?) lost her friends and family by the dozen. Her father beating her for accidentially transfiguring their cat into a pillow.

The last memory was the most vivid. Harry/Shura kicked in the door of someone's apartment, and in the living room sat a family of 4. They looked at Harry/Shura, and as soon as they saw her crimson robes, the light left their eyes. They did not raise a hand to defend themselves as Shura killed them one by one, and the mother held her youngest close to her as the end came. They did not even bother beg for their lives, or for the lives of their children, because they knew that it was useless. The Security Corps always killed. That's why people fear us...

Harry was back in the classroom, gasping into the light, once again seeing a concerned Hermione bent down over him. He shrugged off Hermione's fuzzing and sat back up. He looked at Shura, who was slumped back in her chair and looked uncharacteristically exhausted. After a long moment had passed, she gave Harry a tired look. "I suppose I should congratulate you on managing to resist. What you saw, by the way, is my worst memory. Well, at least it was before I met the dementors. But the dementors sure showed me that memory a lot. When they saw me, they all gave up. Just like that. Instead of being the defender of justice I had set out to be, I had become a monster. Until I saw them accept death merely at seeing me, I did not know that what I did was wrong. And yet now it seems so obvious".

She wiped the sweat from her forehead, which Harry was surprised to see was with more than just sweat. Other than annoyance towards Hermione, the professor had until now shown little emotion once they had left the topic of the dementors. "This is the memory which was in my mind as I surrendered to the dementors, Harry Potter. I did not intend for you, or anyone, to see it". Her expression soon returned to neutral, and Harry could not read the look she gave him. "Again!", she ordered, and attacked the surface of his mind.

After almost an hour, Harry had found himself capable of resisting not all but most of her attacks, and Hermione began to complain she did not receive enough time to practice. After a few more hours, the five hours they had been given to practice were up, and while Harry had made progress, Hermione had not. She had tried her very hardest and failed, which Harry had become convinced was a new experience for Hermione. At least she would not have to keep the memory of her failure, but Harry suspected that was not much comfort to her.

After they had used up their time-turners for the day, only Harry was allowed to keep his memories, although he had to reluctantly promise to continue occlumency lessons with professor Snape, who was apparently a master of the discipline. Like Shura had promised, the emotional impression of the conversation was allowed to remain, which had the unfortunate side effect of leaving Hermione fuming when they returned to class, even if she did not know why. Harry hoped he wouldn't have to be the one to explain that whole mess to to her when it was time.


	26. Chapter 26

A/N: My fic is now officially longer than Philosopher's stone. I, for one, thought that was cool.

-

Harry sat through the rest of Shura's introduction to duelling, itching to get started with the actual duels. Hermione had sat alone alongside the Ravenclaws, with only a memory of professor Shura calling her ignorant after offering them lessons on patronuses for company. Harry wondered if Hermione would consider him responsible for her memories being taken if he did not immediately tell her they had been wiped, but Harry had been suitably impressed by Shura that he had no intention of putting her at risk from the press - or risking her displeasure, for that matter.

After all, the rumour in the Slytherin dungeons was that reporters were positively itching to talk to any student that had talked to professor Shura. Harry was not surprised that Hermione had not managed to succeed at occlumency, in spite of her general talent. Hermione had not exactly mastered her emotions, and Harry had been unable to resist the attack until he had found that cold, emotionless place within himself.

It reminded him of the dreams where he was Voldemort, but also a little of the dreams where he was a dementor. But luckily, the truest comparison to the dementor lay in the cold, sore feeling in his body. The despair, the outright, endless despair of being exposed to the dementors had no comparison, not even when Harry felt like Voldemort. Harry suddenly felt very lonely, sitting on his own on a bench in the lecture hall, as he thought of a newborn dementor slithering through the darkest places of the world.

Harry was rescued from his state of mind by having his name called to the usual stares and whispers. He had two options, which had both been clearly explained, and already knew he would accept both. The first and most obvious was the duelling club, where students would practice various spells on each other and fight in arranged duels. The next was much more interesting. A tournament was to be held at Hogwarts, between students of all ages.

Professor Shura had announced that the winners of the tournament would each receive 50 points for their house and 4 free lessons from Shura, Snape or McGonagall, who had all decided to offer this up as a price in order to encourage attendance. That meant, of course, that any student hungry for fame or tutoring would want to win the tournament. This meant about half of Ravenclaw, half of Slytherin, some Hufflepuffs and the majority of Gryffindors. The tournament was divided into 7 tiers, one for each grade, each with increasingly fewer restrictions. Students in their first to third year, for example, were only allowed to use spells from their text-book, with any use of other spells resulting in instant disqualification.

Each student who wanted to sign up had to pick up a silver coin, which automatically changed and became engraved with their name, and dump it into a large cup of dark stone Shura had summoned. The coins did not even make a sound as they landed in the cup, but simply disappeared with a flash. Students were told that this kept track of score and qualifications, and would itself announce the winner from each years according to the rules it was enchanted to keep. It would also disqualify any cheaters. In wizarding sports, after all, nobody would think to rely on human judges.

Harry was not upset that he would only get to compete with other first-years, half because he wanted to upstage Ron, Draco and Hermione both, all of whom had entered the tournament, and half because he was not eager to be defeated by a bunch of older kids with more training. Harry did not see himself as at all capable of fighting someone in their third or fourth year. Since Harry was rather small and scrawny for his age, in part as a result of malnutrition, a lot of the older students struck him as intimidating.

After signing up, it was lunch and an exhausted Harry sat down at the Slytherin table. He gratefully started to eat and paid no heed when his fellow students started receiving mail and newspapers. But it did not take long for the situation to become impossible to ignore. It seemed that most students were holding a newspaper with a picture of Harry on the front cover. Harry was, in the picture, walking out of Ollivanders after having bought his first wand, and the picture showed him with a rather manic energy. Harry remembered how he had felt then, tense about the strange comments from Ollivanders, curious about Voldemort and worried about life at Hogwarts, and was not happy with how he looked in the picture. Or indeed aware, until now, that it had been taken.

He grabbed a newspaper from Theodore Nott, who did not complain, content to watch Harry read and enjoy his reaction. Harry's reaction certainly kept Theodore's interest, but did not show the range of his confused feelings at reading an article about himself. The headline was the worst. "Harry Potter attacked by dementors!", it exclaimed. "Dumbledore silent as usual in face of continuous problems at Hogwarts" followed in smaller print.

"A source in magical law enforcement says that Harry Potter was accidentally exposed to dementors, and that Dumbledore subsequently failed to provide him with even the most basic of care - not even as much as chocolate was offered to him". Someone named "Rita Skeeter" then went on about how Dumbledore was mismanaging Hogwarts, and how this blatant incompetence had put the "famous Harry Potter" in direct danger. Harry was fuming as he saw himself described as "rosy-cheeked and lovable", and his mood was not helped by a footnote that claiming that the whole experience had left Harry "as vulnerable and misunderstood as always".

Harry did not need much deliberation to know that he did not like Rita Skeeter one bit. What forcibly claimed his attention next was an article just below the main headline. "A murderer at Hogwarts?". It was about professor Shura, and seemed to have been written in response to Harry and Hermione being asked to stay after class. Harry knew Hermione would not be happy to know she was mentioned only as "a muggleborn tutored by Potter", but those are the words Rita Skeeter had chosen to describe his best friend.

Harry was definitively done for now, especially if he ended up facing Hermione in the tournament.

The article talked about the many atrocities committed by the Muscowian Security Corps, some of which Harry was unfortunately quite familiar with. The article was full of rampant speculation ranging from Shura wanting to kill Potter, to Harry spying on her under orders from Dumbledore. Any speculation about Harry, he noticed, was passed off as almost satirical, like Harry was not actually a real person, and Harry was unhappily reminded of the sketches and jokes the prophet had carried about him before he had entered wizarding society.

Going back to the dorms after defence certainly wouldn't be fun, so Harry did his best to ignore the rest of the students and focus on eating. And eat he did, filling up before the next lesson. He had found that constantly using his magic made him hungry, and occlumency certainly was no exception. After lunch, the Slytherins went to the next half of their double session of defence, while the Ravenclaws were scheduled for charms. Harry waved to Hermione, but she seemed in no mood to talk.

Whenever Hermione decided she was upset, Harry normally would just avoid her for a few days until it blew over. Hermione would invariably sit next to him in the library and vent about it until Madam Pince, the librarian, told them to be quiet. Then they would go back to studying and things would go back to normal. Harry had finally gotten firmly ahead of Hermione in defence and Potions, and was hoping to at least do better than her in the tournament. But in transfiguration, charms, history of magic and herbology, Hermione far outshone him. In the subjects where Harry was ahead, he was only barely staying ahead and he knew if he let himself relax she would overtake him.

Harry had thought about going to the library after class, but decided that avoiding Hermione for now was best. With Hermione, it was better to wait until she was done fuming rather than try to try and calm her down yourself. After class he gathered his notes and rushed towards the dungeons, hoping to make it there before any rumour-mongers. But without any chance of using his time-turner, and frankly feeling rather exhausted, Harry ended up forgetting one of the short-cuts and got there as almost the last. Almost everyone in the dormitory stared at him as he entered, and once again Harry wished he was not famous.

He opted to just walk through the common room and try to look nonchalant until he could hide in his dorm. To his own surprise, he managed not to stumble the whole way there. When he arrived, he found Draco and Theodore waiting for him, sitting on their beds in their shared dormitory. It looked like there was still no rest for the wicked. As Harry wearily sat down on his bed, Draco broke the silence. "Come on, Harry. You know we have to ask you. You can't just keep silent, either. It's easier if you just tell us now and get it over with".

Harry, who by now understood his fellow Slytherins at least a little, knew Draco was right. Slytherins did not cope well with having rumours kept from them by one of their own and would relentlessly pressure anyone who was both powerless and in possession of good gossip to share. Someone like Harry. Harry sighed and once again wished he had accepted the hat's offer of being sorted into Hufflepuff. "She offered me lessons on how to cast a patronus, Draco, but she only did it because I was attacked. Which it seems everyone knows now. I'm fine, and Shura intends to teach all of you the patronus charm anyway". Harry laughed.

"A patronus? That's not all, Harry. Come on. She broke a silence she has been carefully maintaining all year. She didn't do it for no reason".

Harry was pleased to find he knew exactly how to give Draco what he wanted. "Well she did say that she wanted to meet me either way. Being Harry Potter and all. But she also said that she did not intend to stay silent anymore. So if anyone has been trying to contact her, they should try again before the Christmas break". Harry knew that what Draco really wanted to know was whether his father could benefit from the situation, because Harry knew just how scared Draco was of his father, and how eager to please him.

Harry, not for the first time, pitied Draco who was now rushing to spread the news. At first he had been jealous of him, for having a family like Harry never did, and status and wealth to go with it. But Harry had learned that it was not easy being the heir to the name of Malfoy. It was considered unthinkable that Draco would be anything but loyal to his father, who had quite a reputation in British politics as a pure-blood supremacist and apologist for the Knights of Walpurgis. He had claimed no connection actual connection to the knights, and since he was an occlumens could not be successfully interrogated, even with veritaserum. Nobody had come forward to testify against him.

Once Draco was gone Harry immediately started making plans for avoiding the common room for the next few days, all of which involved a combination of time turning and his invisibility cloak. It was only a few days until winter break, and Harry just wanted to get through them. When Shura had held him and Hermione, he thought for a second that he had earned a detention, which he had been trying so hard to avoid. These days Snape mostly left him alone, since his potions work was excellent and Harry had learned to keep perfectly quiet during class.

As for the staring, well, Harry had just decided to ignore it. It was creepy, but at least the potions master did not stare as much as he used to. Harry was happy to remember that his scar had never hurt when he looked into Snape's strange, almost mournful eyes. After he had learned about legilimency, Harry had avoided eye contact with adults. Shura's session was the beginning of change and Harry made a mental note to find out how one went about arranging occlumency lessons with Snape.

Harry managed to pass the time until winter break without being cornered too often, which was important, and without rubbing anyone wrong which was more important. The day before the students prepared to leave for Christmas, Hermione had sat down next to him in the library. After pressure from Slytherin as a whole, Harry had stopped inviting Hermione to eat with him at the Slytherin table, in spite of Dumbledore's attempt to prevent exactly that from happening. But Slytherin or no Slytherin, Hermione was still his friend, and they were happy to study alongside each other on the last day of school. Harry knew that Hermione would be going home, and was hoping to make their goodbye as short and easy as at all possible.

He would miss his friend, of course, but Harry had plans. Namely, Harry intended to finally explore the rest of the chamber of secrets. Harry also remembered something that had felt strange to Harry when he'd heard it, even if he was too preoccupied to pay it any head at the moment. Shura had talked about a "Dark lord Tom" earlier, and Harry knew only one Tom. The one in the diary. The book he was reading had confirmed what he'd started to suspect after Shura's off-hand remark.

Nobody had ever told Harry that Voldemort had been born Tom Riddle. None of the history books about Voldemort had mentioned it, and Harry had only confirmed his suspicions when he'd used his search spell. The passage which confirmed his fears was found in a biography written about Dumbledore, which had at first seriously confused Harry.

"After his defeat of Grindelwald, Dumbledore eventually accepted the post as headmaster of Hogwarts. Dumbledore's most famous student is He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, who in those days was known to the world as Tom Marvolo Riddle. Few remember today that the Tom Riddle that the daily prophet once called "brilliant" became the Dark Lord who terrorized our country for many dark years. To this day some still claim that He-Who-Goes-Unnamed was never really Tom Riddle, but that Tom Riddle was a mere fictional character created to try and humiliate the Dark Lord. Tom Riddle, according to genealogical records, is half-blood whereas the Dark Lord was a famous proponent of pure-blood supremacy. To most it seems unlikely that He-Without-Name would fight so bitterly for blood supremacy if his own was not pure, but the truth is unknowable to any except Dumbledore".

No, Harry thought, it was not. Harry had an idea how he could find out. Before Hermione returned to her parents, she told Harry that she had bought him a Christmas present but was going to give it to him now. Harry had not thought of a gift for her at all, and was happy to be able to just claim he'd always intended to give her hers at Christmas. This way he wouldn't forget and would also have time to pick her something suitable.

Hermione made him close his eyes as she led him up a flight of stairs, but when the noises finally made it clear they were headed for the owlery, Hermione let him open his eyes. "I bought you an owl, Harry! I know you don't have one, and I read that it's tradition for wizards to receive owls as presents, so, merry Christmas Harry!". She seemed more worried about Harry would be happy than excited about her present. "I really hope you'll like her".

Harry was actually quite excited. He had never owned a pet, let alone an owl, and he had read that owls possessed a magical connection to their owner and to wizards in general. That was how they could always find who they were looking for.

Harry gave Hermione a hug, and eagerly ordered his lightly blushing friend to show him which one was his. He was lead to a owl which had a distinct air of calm and dignity. It was brown with white spots, and Hermione told him that this was a Strix Aluco or tawny owl, and that it was known for its excellent vision and hearing. She also told him that this one in particular was a girl, and that her name was Audra, which meant storm.

Harry got to know his new owl, and it seemed that they got along instantly. The owl let Harry pet her without protest, and seemed to enjoy his affection. Harry did not quite know how to thank Hermione, not used to receiving presents, so he just gave her another hug. Soon, he saw her off and to both of their mild alarm it seemed the ride to Hogsmeade station would take place by carriage, each of which was pulled by strange horses with wings and sunken skin. From the whispering, it was impossible not to learn that they were called "thestrals".

A threstral, Harry read when he returned to the common room, could only be seen by people who had witnessed death. After the attack on the quidditch match, there was no longer a shortage of such students.

Harry was one of the only Slytherin remaining at school for the winter break, and he was happy for the peace and quiet. He was also quite happy to now be the owner of Audra the owl. In fact, owning an own had given him an idea. It had been right under Harry's nose, but he had not thought of it until now. He wanted answers from Dumbledore, so he would write Dumbledore a letter. That way, Dumbledore could not escape answering his questions, and any attempt evasion would be all the more obvious.

Harry now sat in the dorm which he did not have to share and composed the first letter he had even written in the traditional way of wizards. Harry enjoyed the sight of Audra snatching up his letter and flying off, magically bound to deliver it to its recipient. Harry's handwriting was not atrocious, not not great either, so he had elected to use a quill which magically improved such things and corrected spelling. Because of this decision, his letter was written with green ink in a neat, curly script. Harry had done his very best not to sound like a child in the letter, which briefly made him worry he had sounded pompous.

"Dear Headmaster Dumbledore,

I hope this letter finds you well. If there is any problem with me writing you directly, please let me know. Wizarding etiquette is not something I am familiar with.

I write you because I know we both have little time to spare, and because there are some questions I have been meaning to ask you.

First of all, what can you tell me about Voldemort? Do you know why he attacked my family? I have not found the answer to that in any of the books about what happened.

Second, do you mind telling me about Grindelwald? I am sure you know I cannot forget that he fought to destroy Azkaban, but I don't want to get the wrong impression.

Have you been touched by a dementor?

I hope to hear from you soon.

Sincerely, and with respect,  
Harry James Potter"

Harry was rather proud of the letter, and thought that it did not look too much like a letter written by a child. Harry waited patiently in the Slytherin dungeons for Audra to bring him the headmaster's response, and after a few hours, she did. After Harry had finished reading the letter, he found it a little harder to resent Dumbledore, who had clearly made a real effort to answer Harry.

"Dear Harry,

I am quite pleased to have received your letter and hope that this exchange of written words will not be our last.

You have many questions, as is normal and healthy for a boy your age. Some of these questions have to do with your background. About all such matters, you of course deserve answers.

There are some things I cannot say in a letter, and certain others I cannot say until professor Snape proclaims himself confident in your ability as an occlumens. I hope you understand this and will forgive me when I reveal certain details in due time.

I was quite pleased to hear reports of your progress from professor Shura, although it is unfortunately that Miss Granger did not seem to master the ability as quickly as you did. Sharing important secrets with ones friends is an important way to stay sane.

One important thing which I can and will tell you is this, Harry. Voldemort is nothing like Grindelwald. Grindelwald was evil, yes. He did harm, yes. He killed, yes. But Grindelwald fundamentally believed that he was doing the right thing, even if he was wrong. Grindelwald, even to the bitter end, fought because he thought the world would be better if wizards and witches ruled over muggles. To him, the horrors of the great war only justified this view, and he would frequently point to it as an example of how muggles could not be trusted to run their own affairs.

Harry, mark my words very carefully. Voldemort does not have as much as a shred of good intention. Whatever Voldemort once was, the being he became is no longer human. It - for that is a more suitable word for Voldemort than him - does not have as much as a shred of compassion within itself. It cannot be trusted and sees murder as the only solution to its problems.

Voldemort attacked your family because they were his enemies and because murder is easy to him. He attacked them, because to him it was easier to kill than to try and understand. The Potters, he thought, might be a danger to him in the future and so he decided to kill them all.

Luckily, he failed, and I know both of your parents would be very proud if they could see you now, Harry.

I know you will want to learn about Grindelwald. Dare I recommend the book "Rise and fall of the second Rome" by my good friend Bathilda Bagshot? She covers the conflict from beginning to end and does it justice in most details.

As for dementors, I report with relief that I have never been touched by one. I understand that professor Shura has, so perhaps you could turn to her to discuss the experience. Keep my offer in mind, Harry. Once again I offer my most sincere condolences.

There is something I can tell you about Voldemort which I hope will help you to understand exactly what that creature has become. Lord Voldemort, unlike any other dark wizard or witch before him, has learned to coexist with dementors. Somehow, they find his presence inoffensive and tolerate him in their nests as they would no other creatures. Voldemort cannot cast a patronus, nor could he ever learn, but somehow he remains safe from their influence.

I am sure you, of all people, understand what this implies about Voldemort and the depths to which he has fallen.

Sincerely yours,  
Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore,  
Headmaster of Hogwarts,  
Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards &amp;  
Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot.

Harry had not failed to notice that Dumbledore spoke about Voldemort in the present tense, as if the dark wizard was still alive. That was a very bad sign, although Harry briefly wondered if perhaps the old man's memory was simply starting to fail him. Harry put the letter aside and decided to reply later. Not only was he feeling quite tired, he had heard that to reply to a letter too quickly would be seen as implying that he was eager and impatient, traits which were not befitting a Slytherin.

Harry thought about Voldemort walking alongside dementors, all bent on killing him, but only for one short, terrible moment. That was simply too much for his mind to deal with at once, so he set it aside. Instead of dwelling on it, he brought out Tom Riddle's diary. He knew now that Tom was the name Voldemort had been born with, but he did not want the Tom if the diary to knew that he knew.

"Hi Tom", he wrote. "We need to talk".


	27. Chapter 27

For a long time, no writing appeared in Tom Riddle's diary. Harry was almost beginning to think that Tom had left the book, impossible as that presumably was. Then they started to appear. Slowly. "Very well, Harry. What do we need to talk about?"

Harry was actually not sure what he wanted to ask. Well, not exactly, anyway. Are you Voldemort or were you ever Voldemort? It seemed like a strange question, so Harry decided to start with the more obvious. "How did you get to be in the diary, Tom?"

Another uncharacteristic silence followed the reply. "Well, Harry, I've told you already that I'm not completely sure, but that I - or, rather, the wizard I was - created me as a memory of the past". Reading that, Harry couldn't tell if Tom was trying to confuse him, or if he really did not understand. Then Harry had an impulse, and as was becoming his habit, he followed it.

"Do you like your name, Tom? Tom Riddle?". This time there was no delay.

"No. I despite it. You know something, Harry, I can tell. Neither of us are foolish, so let us not play foolish games. You should go ahead and say what you need to".

Harry felt that Tom was herding him into some sort of trap, but as he saw no way out he decided he might as well spring it and see what would happen. "I know that you are Voldemort, Tom. Or will be, anyway. I know who you are". To Harry's surprise, the script began to change, as if the Tom in the diary was writing faster. Becoming angry.

"You do, do you? Do you know what it's like to be raised the way I was? To have a name that not only reminded you of a filthy past, but which was used against you, like a weapon? Voldemort is a name of power, Harry, a name I have chosen for myself. Is that not my right? I have no obligation to share my secrets with you, and keeping the names of Tom Riddle and Voldemort separate was my choice. You wouldn't understand". Harry frowned and felt that he did understand. Perhaps it would be nice, one day, to no longer be a slave to the name Harry Potter. But Harry was still not satisfied.

"So how much do you know about Voldemort, Tom? About what he, or should I say you, did? What he became?".

"I don't know anything, actually". Now that Harry came to think of it, Tom had mentioned wanting to learn more about himself - or however one put it - when they had first met. "And if you know, you should tell me. It's not right to keep my own life from me." The whole conversation was confusing Harry, but he was still devoted to getting answers of some sort out of Tom.

"Voldemort is evil, is what he is. A dark wizard. A murderer. My parents murderer". Tom took a long time to answer, but Harry waited patiently. He was angry, now that he had been forced to spell it out, but he would wait.

"I see. I did not know that, Harry. Whatever my former self became, you have to understand that it is not me. I am not a murderer. In fact, I am like you. An orphan". Harry frowned.

"I don't believe you".

If text could convey emotion, Harry would have sworn the diary was smiling. "Would you like to see, Harry? Because I can show you. I can show you the Tom Riddle that was. I can show you exactly why and how I came to outgrow the name of Tom Riddle. You talk as if you know me, but you really know nothing, Harry. Voldemort. Do you even know what that name means, Harry? It does not mean murder. Nor does it mean evil. I will tell you, but only if you look. If you see what I have to show you."

Harry started to reply, intending to accept to accept, but as soon as he touched his pen to the paper, the world began to fade. Soon, he was sitting next to a small boy who reminded him very much of himself. Alone. in dirty clothes. Covered with bruises. And, to Harry's surprise, a victim. The boy was laying on the ground as 2 older children were kicking him and calling him names. "You're a freak, Riddle! A dirty freak! And we're not scared of you!".

Harry saw that the boy had failed to hold back tears, and the vulnerability of that moment melted away whatever anger Harry still harboured towards Tom. The scene changed, and Tom was standing up as the boys looked away. Harry saw that the walls shook, but only slightly, and the boys who had attacked Tom before now gave him only a brief look before turning to run as fast as they can. A last, echoing "Freak!" was heard as they disappeared around a corner, reminding Harry very unpleasantly of similar memories from his own childhood.

"Ah, but you recognize this, don't you Harry? Were you raised by muggles? Yes, yes I see that you were". Harry had not meant to flinch, but as soon as he did Tom understood it as a reply. "Magic is power, Harry. And names have power. Over us, but also over others. When I was young, I was victimized because I was magical. A freak in their eyes. Because of my name, as well. Is it fair that I should go through that forever? Watch now".

This was Harry's first time hearing Tom's voice and he found it strangely soothing. Almost familiar. The scene changed and Harry had no time to dwell on who the voice reminded him of. A boy who Harry now easily recognized as a slighter older Tom Riddle, maybe 11, was surrounded by several senior boys, lead by one who unpleasantly reminded Harry of Dudley.

Tom looked calm, but Harry could recognize the tension just below the surface. This was more than a little familiar. "Not even going to defend yourself, Riddle?", the Dudley-kid had his wand raised but Tom seemed to ignore them. "Professor Dumbledore put a stop to you, didn't he? A stop to you and your black magic? Filthy half-blood! You don't belong in Slytherin, Riddle! You don't belong". The memory faded as Tom went for his wand, and Harry was again floating in the darkness.

When Tom spoke, his voice was soft and conspiratorial. "Do you see, Harry? My name was my enemy. It held me back. My blood status was held against me, and I was called a false Slytherin. I could not even defend myself, or I would be punished. All because of how they saw me. But later, I would find the chamber, Harry, just like you did."

Harry was confused. This was Voldemort, after all, wasn't it? So how could he sympathize with him? Or had the Voldemort that had killed Lily and James been born later? "I don't know what you've heard about me, Harry, but keep this in mind. As you seem me now, I am 15, just like I always was. I am on the edge of freedom, Harry. On the edge of being free of who I was. But instead of getting my well earned freedom, I am trapped. Trapped by my own past and by my filthy name. And now you say that I, under the name Voldemort, am guilty of killing your parents?".

A young, handsome boy with brown hair appeared in front of Harry, wearing Slytherin ropes exactly like those Harry wore right now. "You are wrong, Harry. I have done nothing to you, because I have done nothing to anyone. I have never killed. I am trapped in this diary, Harry, and I have never left Hogwarts. And yet, you accuse me of horrible things. In school they accused me of things, too. They accused me of being dark. Being evil. All because I defended myself. Tell me, Harry, am I to blame for seeking to defend myself? Or for seeking to change how others see me, by ridding myself of a name which I hate? Is it evil to no longer want to be a victim?"

Harry felt a deception in the words, some lie or omission, but could not put his finger on it. "What is this place, Tom?", he asked instead of answering any of the questions.

Tom frowned. "It's my prison, Harry. The void wherein I can only interact with my own memories. And they are not happy."

Harry thought of dementors, but the darkness around him made that thought too unpleasant to bear for long. He remembered McGonagall scolding him, after he had defeated the 3 older Ravenclaws. Remembered the fear in her voice. Fear of Harry. Fear that he was evil, somehow. Evil, because he had defended himself. "No, Tom. I don't think you are to blame". And with that, it was done, and Harry suddenly found himself back in his bed, clutching the diary. A small indent had been created in the cover by his nails.

"So, Harry, you see", Tom wrote. "You see that I am not whoever I became. That people choose, and that this is exactly what makes them people. Now, Harry, I have a promise to keep, do I not?". Harry did not remember what the promise was, but the answer appeared before he could ask. "Voldemort, Harry, means to escape from death. It means one who does not accept the end of existence. One such as I. It is remarkable simple. I set out to life forever, like any sensible wizard would. I also sought freedom. Freedom from my name. My past. Freedom to be, Harry. To be all that I could be."

When it was put like that, Harry could hardly blame Tom. But that didn't mean he was ready to forgive. Not at all. "Why did you kill my parents, Tom? Or should I say Voldemort?"

"I think Tom is more appropriate, Harry, for that is how I was known in this time. And really, Harry, how am I supposed to know? It happened after I was 15, I know that much. I know nothing else. As I told you, Harry, whatever happened to the wizard who was once me, I know nothing about it. You could tell me, if you so choose. I should like to know."

And so Harry, no longer considering Tom and Voldemort to be one and the same, told the diary everything that he knew. He then excused himself, exhausted, and headed down to the common room. He needed to clear his head, somehow. Once there, he noticed one of the only other Slytherins who had remained behind at Hogwarts for the holidays. It was Theodore Nott. Theodore and Harry had talked before, of course, but it occurred to Harry that they had never talked to each other as children normally do. They had talked about school work, about defence class, about the upcoming tournament, or about Quidditch. But never about themselves, and never without maintaining a facade.

That was an unpleasant realization for Harry. That he had hardly talked to any of the other Slytherins his age. That whenever he had been in the common room, he had been on edge.

Harry once again wished he had been sorted into Hufflepuff, but decided that being Slytherin would not keep him from making friends. At least not anymore. So, Harry approached Theodore, who was reading a book. Rather than disturb him, Harry sat down next to him with his own book. After a few minutes, Theodore turned a page and looked over at Harry. "Staying here for Christmas as well, Potter? Don't get me wrong, I'm happy for the company, I just thought you would have wanted to spend the holidays with your relatives".

Harry cringed. "I don't get along so well with my relatives. They're muggles, and they don't really care much for magic. It's much nicer to just stay here, and besides, it means I can get ahead in some of my classes". Talking about the Dursley's was something Harry had avoided almost religiously in Slytherin, since he did not want to give others an excuse to pick on him.

But Theodore seemed like this was all perfectly obvious and just nodded before returning to his book. After a few minutes, an answer came. "I'm staying because my father is busy with his work in the Wizengamot." Hours passed until it was time for dinner, and the two boys ended up simply chatting about the small things in their life. Harry noted with some surprised that this might have been the very first time he had actually talked to another student, just to talk. It was dangerous to talk to Draco, since you always had to watch what you said, and him and Hermione were always competing. It was a welcome break. Entirely welcome.

At dinner the boys set down next to each other, and although the talk returned to quidditch, this time they didn't talk about the Slytherin's team prospects, or about strategies, but simply about games and players that they both liked. Harry was not entirely up to speed, but he had some idea of which were the most popular teams. After dinner their talk continued, and Harry was happy to find that they both seemed to be letting down their guard.

Before their conversation could come to a natural end, though, Audra flew into the common room, carrying a letter to Harry. He shrugged an apology to Theodore and opened it, finding Dumbledore's neat, curly script on the letter within.

"Dear Harry,

Since you have opted to stay at the school for the duration of our Solstice break, I have taken the liberty of arranging occlumency lessons for you with professor Snape, who also has a habit of remaining at the school over the winter.

Kindly report to Severus within thirty minutes. Do bring him this letter. It might surprise him, but I am sure he does not mind. After all, Severus cares for all of his Slytherins, and will be eager to see you advance your skills.

Sincerely yours,  
Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore,  
Headmaster of Hogwarts,  
Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards &amp;  
Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot.

This was not welcome news to Harry. Professor Snape had some sort of grudge against him, and spending Christmas break - or Solstice break, apparently - with him was not Harry's idea of rest and recreation. Still, mastering occlumency seemed important, and Harry had every intention of learning as quickly as possible. There was something positively eery about the idea that people could read his mind. He apologized to Theodore, who did not seem particularly upset, and headed down to the dungeons where he expected to find his head of house.

He had to tap on the door 3 times before there was any reply, and then the door simply opened with a 'click' that sounded almost mechanical, although Harry knew the door had no physical lock. "Don't dally!" was heard from within, and Harry did not think it sounded like Snape was in a good mood at all, even when compared to his usual self which was all smiles and sunshine. As Harry entered, he found his head of house sitting over a cauldron and stirring the slowly simmering liquid from which rose a beautiful, silvery fog. "What do you want, Potter?"

Snape's voice was tired, more tired than Harry had ever heard, and Harry suddenly felt bad for intruding. But it wasn't like this was really his idea, anyway. "I'm sorry to disturb you professor, but I have a letter from professor Dumbledore saying to... well, it says I should just give it to you".

Snape gave him a single glance. "Then give it to me, Potter". He snatched the letter from Harry's hands and read it quickly, then re-read it several times. His hands were shaking and Harry unhappily assumed the man was furious. Snape suddenly turned on his chair to face Harry, moving so fast that Harry instinctively reached for his wand. But no attack came, and instead Snape gave him a searching look. "Is this what you want, Potter? To study occlumency? Do you really think you have the discipline to do so? It is not easy Potter, I can tell you that much, and if you decide to pursue this you cannot stop half-way, because I do not tolerate failure in my pupils."

Harry actually had to think about that before he replied, but then he nodded, slowly. "Yes, professor. This is what I want. Professor Shura taught me a lot already, but I want to learn more".

Snape sighed. "I heard about what she taught you. While your mediocre achievement is praiseworthy in the eyes of some, Potter, I am not impressed. Reversing legilimency is the worst possible defence. Do you know anything about the dangers of being a legilimens, Potter? Do you know why so few people attempt to master it, in spite of its obvious usefulness?"

Harry just shook his head.

"It's very simple, Potter. Minds are complicated things. In looking into the mind of professor Shura, who should never have let down her defences, you risked entangling your mind with hers. You can destroy your own identity, Potter, with careless legilimency. While occlumency is safe, at least in the sense that failing will have the same result as not trying, legilimency is not. When you look into the mind of another, you can confuse your own identity with theirs, not to speak of the damage you can do to the mind of your victim. So I warn you, Potter." The danger in Snape's tone made Harry listen very, very carefully. "Do not try to reverse my legilimency. There is a reason I am considered a master occlumens. A good reason. If you try to look inside my mind, have no doubt that I will destroy you. Perhaps Dumbledore can restore you but... perhaps not. Do I make myself clear?"

Harry nodded, shivering with cold at this new information. Nobody had told him that. "Yes, sir. I only want to learn occlumency anyway, not legilimency. I will remember." Something in Snape's eyes told Harry that there were still things going unsaid, but Harry was not eager to engage the surly potions master in conversation. Before Harry had much time to prepare, the lesson began.

Again and again, Harry's most intimate moments were ripped from his mind. Professor Shura, apparently, was no match for Severus Snape when it came to the arts of the mind. The pain in Harry's scar let him know when the intrusion started, but unlike with Shura, did not give him an adequate focus to expel the professor from his mind. After a few hours, Harry had only succeeded 4 times, and even then only barely. By now Harry was exhausted, but it looked as if Snape had not even broken a sweat. It did not help that it felt like his entire head was on fire. Snape had occasionally returned to the cauldron to stir it, but now the colour of the mist changed from silver to golden, and the professor turned to devote his attention to his brew.

"You are dismissed, Potter. That was a pathetic performance. Try to read up on occlumency before you return tomorrow. Discipline your mind, or you will never be able to resist the intrusions of a skilled legilimens. Make your mind smooth, and if that makes no sense to you, figure it out. What Shura has taught already you might protect you from the likes of Rita Skeeter or other such pathetic creatures, but if you intend to resist the intrusion of anyone who excels in those arts, Potter, you will have to do better. Now off with you".

Harry had no time to reply and slowly walked back to his common room, where he saw Theodore still sitting by the fireplace with a book. A rather large cat was on the couch next to the boy, but Harry gave it no real thought. He was exhausted and decided to go for a nap.

When he woke up, it was dark, but that mattered little to Harry. He planned to spend the hours he had already slept away exploring the rest of the chamber of secrets. Harry had returned to the library once or twice, but he hadn't checked to see if there was more of the chamber to discover. 5 turns of the hourglass later, Harry was ready to head out. Nervous, but ready.

Harry slipped under his cloak and snuck down the hallways. Harry had never seen the school so empty. It was quiet. Eerily so. But he stayed under his cloak regardless. Better safe than sorry, that much Harry had learned long ago.

Soon, Harry was back in the entrance hall to the great chamber. The first thing he did is reinspect every nook and cranny of the hall. Once again, he learned nothing new. Eventually, he stood in front of the doors he still thought of as elevators. From this point, he had only gone up, not down. He hesitated. And then he pressed the 'down' door and was instantly plunged into darkness.

For a moment, Harry just stood there, waiting. When nothing changed, he raised his wand and intoned a spell. "Lumos!". His tone sounded desperate, revealing a growing panic Harry had not recognized until that moment. A terrible thought occurred to him. What if there was a dementor in the darkness? What if there were multiple? He shuddered. The image of a dementor, still young, floating through dark places once again flashed in front of his eyes. Could IT be here? The dementor who had been born from him?

But Harry shook off the thought. By now, he had read everything he could find about dementors, and had learned how to recognize the presence of dementors. There were none here. The light from his wand had illuminated a series of twisting cave passages. Some of them were large enough to drive a small car through. Others, Harry would have struggled to even crawl through. Not that he had any intention of crawling in there. In the dark.

Harry shuddered again. Whatever this cave was meant to be for, Harry wasn't sure he wanted to know. He did not explore the cave, but instead touched the 'down' door again. Nothing happened. For a horrible second, Harry thought he was trapped in the cave, and that it wouldn't be long before whatever monster was watching him from the darkness came to claim its prize.

But the door 'up' worked, as it always had for Salazar's chosen, and Harry was back in the entrance hall. He let out a sigh of relief and took a moment to steel himself. He was going to do this. To explore every level of the chamber. It had to be done. He touched the 'up' door and found himself back in the familiar library. Another touch of the door, and Harry went further up into the great tower than he ever had before.

The first place Harry found himself was a great greenhouse, bigger even than the library. The greenhouses was divided into sections. In some, bright lights shone. In others, darkness ruled. Some were wet, others dry. In some, it rained. Harry walked some small distance into the greenhouse, fascinated, until a yellow vine-like plant hissed at him. That proved enough for Harry, who wowed to return here only after learning more about herbology.

The next touch of the 'up' door brought him to a place Harry immediately recognized as a potions laboratory. No potions seemed to be simmering here, but there were instruments that Harry had not seen even in professor Snape's classroom. Not eager to be poisoned by a careless touch in the room, Harry touched the up door again.

The next room was an arena of sort. A portion of the room was lowered, clearly serving as a stage, and there were even a few seats for spectators. As soon as Harry entered the room, a flash of light exploded into existence right in front of Harry. Harry gasped and fell backwards, landing on his behind. He was instantly mad at himself for being taken by surprise as the silvery, translucent figure of a man began to talk.

"Welcome, Harry James Potter, to applied battle magic. You are at tier 0, with 0 wins and 0 defeats. Spells at this tier are nonlethal only, with no permanent side effects. Would you like to begin?"

Harry looked up at the creature he had at first thought to be a ghost. After second look, it was clear that whatever this was, it was no ghost. The colour was all wrong, for one.

"Uhm, no thanks", Harry said. "What is this place?". There was no answer from the apparition, which simply stood there watching him. After the rest of Harry's questions were similarly ignored, he decided that the man had no intelligence of its own. Uneasy, Harry turned back to the 'up' door and pressed it once again.

This time, Harry arrived in a large, luxurious bedroom. It had windows, through which shone an unobtrusive, grey light that was almost - but not quite - like sunshine. Harry explored it for a few minutes until something made him stop dead in his tracks. On the great bed that dominated the chamber was written, in a neat, golden script, Harry James Potter.

It took Harry almost a minute to realize that this must be his bedroom, which the chamber had somehow created for him. He made a mental note to ask Tom about it later. He really should have just brought Tom's diary, but something in him thought it unwise to carry around an artifact that had belonged to the teenager who Voldemort had once been. Harry smiled. This really was the nicest room anyone had ever prepared for him. His room at the Leaky Cauldron came in as a close second, but this took the prize. The bed was comfortable, and the room seemed to have everything else Harry could desire. There were bookshelves, cabinets and shelves for clothes and belongings, and an armchair that looked remarkable comfortable. There was even a fireplace, and Harry wondered if it was possible to floo into the room directly.

When Harry was done admiring the room, he touched the up button for the last time. As soon as he did, Harry was startled to find that the up door had disappeared. Strange. The down door had stayed put when Harry had reached the bottom. But he put the thought from his mind. As he turned around, he saw quite clearly why this was the top of the tower. Here stood the magnificent telescope Harry had seen only once, when he first approached the tower. The great telescope of Salazar Slytherin.

Harry's mind found no words for how magnificent it truly was. Had it been hollow, he could have lived inside it. The room was filled with small, floating illusions of planets, galaxies and stellar objects which Harry did not recognize at all. As he approached each one in turn, they grew large and showed him all the detail he desired. Finally, Harry sat down in the chair that was attached to the telescope.

It would be hours before Harry finally forced himself to leave the chamber. The telescope showed him things no muggle had ever seen. Beautiful things. Harry's mind was filled with stars, planets, galaxies and wonders when he finally went back to sleep in his dormitory.


	28. Chapter 28

Hello everybody! Thank you for following my story, and for the enthusiasm some of you have expressed for it in the comments.

I have good news, and I have bad news. Bad news first. This story is discontinued, and I have no intention of posting more updates for it ever. Sorry.

Now good news: I am posting a re-write of it from scratch with story direction.

What happened is that I started writing it like fan-fiction, posting it unedited and chapter-by-chapter. For the new fic - called simply Secrets of Magica - I will post 3 chapters every 3 months, a better schedule for me.

I have also started writing an original novel, which is what's kept me from writing updates. That obviously takes priority, although I intend to keep updating the new SOM every three months steadily. The plan for that story is to do seven books, each of at least about 70k words. It will of course be free of charge, being fan-fiction.

Within 3 months, I will post the first 3 chapter of Secrets of Magica, Book one.

The following is the unfinished chapter 28, which I have NOT proof-read: So excuse the presumably many mistakes.

_Winter break was over, and all the students had returned to Hogwarts. It had been an uneventful few weeks, and one of the best times of Harry's life. He had been left alone, well fed, and had even found pleasant company in the form of Theodore Nott._

_Nott was quiet and extremely reserved, and reminded him of Hermione to a point. But there was something different to Nott, a form of sophistication that Harry immediately came to admire. It seemed impossible to upset the boy. Other than Tom Riddle's diary, Theodore was the only boy of Harry's age who stayed in the Slytherin dorms for during the vacation._

_Even Harry had enough tact not to ask why. But during the great feast to welcome the students to school, Theodore and Harry sat together._

_"So", Harry said, "the ministry didn't use to interfere at Hogwarts at all?"._

_Theodore shook his head. "That's what I'm telling you. The ministry has changed, from what it was. Changed from how it was meant to be. It was only established to enforce the statute of secrecy - see? All the rest of its power came as an addition."_

_Sometimes, when Theodore talked, he sounded like an adult. This was one of those times. Harry frowned. "How did that happened? If they didn't used to have power like that, how did they get it?"._

_Theodore smiled, the conversation very much going his way. "Corruption. When they first started checking houses for traces of ritualistic magic, what they now call "dark" magic, they claimed only to look for traces of certain and very specific spells, such as balefire. Then they added another spell, and then another. Today, there are hardly any defensive charms that are still legal. Even in self defence."_

_"Even in self defence?". This did not sound very plausible to Harry. "Why? If every cutting spell is illegal, does that mean that the one people use to, uhm... is that one illegal?"._

_There was a spell which was only used in the Slytherin dungeons. The older children used it on each other, in a dangerous and painful game called "base". Different teams would fight it out in the Slytherin dungeons, to either neutralize the other team or storm into their "base". The spell would cut you where it hit, and healing potions would remove the wound afterwards._

_Theodore nodded. "Yes. Playing base could be punishable by Azkaban, depending on how the law is interpreted. Of course, since the Wizengamot consists of noble houses and plenty of Slytherins, nobody would ever be convicted for the game. But the principle is the same." Theodore had a frankly amazing knowledge of wizarding law and customs, saying his father had bought him expensive tutors in every relevant topic._

_To Harry all of this was fascinating. It was a bit dry, sometimes, but it was real. Real magic and real laws. The ministry of magic, the actual wizarding government, had highly trained experts who enforced and interpreted these laws._

_When he had heard about aurors in the path, wizards who hunted dark wizards, he had thought it sounded exciting and glamorous. As Theodore described it, they were little more than glorified policemen, who usually dealt with things like cursed muggle artefacts and tax evasion. In some cases, he said they were little more than extortionists._

_Harry and Theodore both finished their meals and started on desert. But just as everyone had filled their plates a loud and clear "plink plink plink" was heard throughout the great hall. Headmaster Dumbledore was tabbing his glass, and Harry was surprised to see that the teacher's table was swarmed by men wearing the familiar coats of aurors._

_Theodore frowned. "Speak of the devil". Dumbledore stood up and cleared his throat, seeming as ancient and mysterious as ever._

_"I hope, dear children, you will all forgive me for interrupting your deserts. I have an unfortunate announcement to make. There has been an attack on magical Britain, and you will all have to return to your dormitories. You will be told everything once you get there."_

_They were all led away by prefects and teachers, then, with a grim professor Snape hearding any who delayed. No Slytherin found it wise to talk, although the children of all other houses were whispering._

_They soon arrived in the dungeons, and everyone turned towards their head of house. He did not keep the truth from them for long. "Azkaban has been breached", he said. "The Muscowites are currently considered likely suspects. We believe this is relatiation for perceived British support for the fall of the Soviet Union."_

_There was a long silence, and a lot of children look at each other confused. Snake smirked. "The Soviet Union, for those of you who do not know, is the muggle institution of control created by the Muscowites. It has allowed them to extend their influence beyond traditional borders, and now it has collapsed. They are blaming us."_

_There was whisper but Snape cut it off. "Silence! There is more. While the security of Azkaban has been restored, a number of escapes have already been confirmed. This includes Bellatrix Lestrange, Bartemious Crouch Junior and Antonin Dolohov." The silence that had already fallen became absolute._

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That's all, I'm afraid!


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